Glass (Crank 2)

Finally, pay dirt. Kristina? I can’t

quit thinking about you.

“The feeling is mutual. See you

tonight.” I can’t quit thinking

about him, don’t for half a minute

as the workday dissolves. At

last the clock says four P.M.

I race to the house, rush through

the door. Hunter is in his infant

seat on the living room floor,

and from the corner of my eye

I see him smile at his mommy.

I should stop, pick him up, shower

him with love. But I can’t slow down

or I’ll be late. I run up to my room,

choose form-fitting jeans and cropped

crocheted sweater, decide to go braless.

Then I take a long steamy shower,

plenty of soap in all the necessary

places; shampoo with ginger spice;

shave my legs with a new razor blade;

dry off, apply plenty of lotion.

Finally, I put on more makeup than

I’ve used in a year—blush, shadow,

liner, mascara, even a smidge

of lip gloss. The person looking

back at me in the mirror isn’t me.

[No, it’s me. Thanks for letting

me out to play. And BTW, the no

bra decision? Good one!] Bree