Home is across town, in the apartment she shares with Taffy, a girl she doesn't really know, but who keeps good hours and doesn't smoke, like the ad said.
Gail likes the street, the people on the bus, the taxi driver with his heavy accent and his picture on the sun visor. She feels herself, sometimes, waking up from something, or coming out into something wider. But she is in no hurry. Plenty of time, she tells herself, plenty of time. So she sits in her chair saying nothing, and her face is placid.
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