19 July 2010 at 8:00 pm
When her friend isn't home and I ask if she has somewhere else to go and she says she guesses her stepdad's place, only he lives twenty minutes north. I say that I was going to drive into Goleta anyway to get a glass of wine, but I need to stop at my place to get out of my yoga clothes and into something presentable.
I'm basically wearing pajamas in public, and she's basically wearing lingerie. She puts a hooded vest on, and I change into a pan-collared polka dot shirtdress.
"I'm Lucille, by the way," she mentions as an aside.
"I'm Morgan," I offer, but we are serving two very distinct purposes in each other's life, and one won't need to know the other's name in an hour.
mod l post-mod
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.