15th
Sketching in Crayon
A model gets on the 4 train at 59th. Her feet are flat plains in shoes that don’t give an inch, her hair is pulled from off her face into an effortless chignon. She flips through her portfolio, chewing a finger eagerly as she takes in the show — the nymphet, the siren, the sun-streaked smile of Abercrombie & Fitch.
Three white women in their mid-20s shift their weight back and forth on tan pumps. They wear dark moles on pasty arms and sensible knee length skirts. On Wednesdays they have manicures with sheer nail polish done by interchangeable Asian women who cut the cuticles too close at the cue of a ringing purse.
The Asian women greet them politely but can’t remember their names; they all leave the same tip and wear engagement rings without a wedding band.
A sulky faced exotic with black-pea eyes popping out in liquid kohl sits down next to the model. The exotic’s nails are presumably a dark, vampy red.
Out of the corner of their eyes the white women are watching the men watching the exotic study the model as she walks off the train, where all of them then drop out of this story all-together.
