LITTLE BLACK DRESS
Driving to yoga on a chilly winter morning, running late, cutting through an alley between two hotels, I freeze-framed a young woman with straight, blonde-streaked hair, carelessly tossed over her shoulders, walking the other way, wearing a too-short-for-her-bright-white hips fake black leather V-necked dress, and all I could think was how cold she looked, how oddly out of season, and when the yoga teacher told us to relax, that relaxation yogis say is the first stage of bliss, and sleep, the second, I imagined that young woman going home after a night of bliss—or not—and thought not, given the way she walked, coat-less, head down, looking like something was over and sleep would have to wait.
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