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Not only was our constantly vivacious Penny singing and dancing up a storm but dancing and singing right along side of her was Maggie. Talk about out of character! She was a sight rarely seen, if ever, certainly not like this by me before. Maggie had her raven black hair, that is normally twisted up into a bun and pinned motionless… pulled into a rather teen ager looking pony tail. Instead of the normal house dress of stockings and a robe, Maggie was decked out with an old red and black checkered flannel shirt unbuttoned to about mid chest showing ample cleavage and the tails were tied in front making it look more like a halter top, the sleeves, like Penny’s rolled up to her elbows. Maggie’s dark indigo blue jeans were rolled up to just below her knees and she had on some old boat shoes with gum soles. The two of them were all smiles, their faces shining with glee and happiness as they belted out the old classic…“Poetry in motion…Walkin’ by my side… Her lovely locomotion… Keeps my. On what I thought would safely be the last day, I met her after work ina bar. I wore a tight, satiny one-piece dress that pressed up mybreasts and extended only a few inches past my crotch. I wore my hairback, gold, shimmery bracelets and gold hoop earrings. We sat in a darkbooth talking. I smoked. "I don't want to wait two months to see you," she confessed. I told her it would go quickly but I had to go. She asked if there wassomeone else. I told her I had a girlfriend. "I want to get another tattoo for you," she said solemnly. "I want youto get one for me, too."A tattoo was out the question. It should have been out of the question. But it was tiny, beautiful,hidden.We said goodbye.Two days later I reverted.***Back in my apartment, I started to get things in order but I still feltso detached. I called my boss and managed to plead my way back intowork. As a magazine journalist, my profession was full of free spirits,drunken bingers, long exploratory trips. I started to.
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