Business Day

Ice water. Highlighter. I have a roll of sketches and his initials around my neck. Fujii Kaze is playing. I am dressed like some miserable woman from a Fassbinder film, which is my version of businesswear. My nails are red for good luck. Year of the Rabbit. Writing emails that all say the same thing: yes, yes, yes, anything you want.

After ages of pitching ideas to sullen producers that weren't even interested in me, my week concludes with success. Another triumph. Exhilaration.

Two successful conversations in twenty-four hours. It’s crazy that we have an eerily similar vocabulary and also other things like being the same height. Unlikely contacts, received letters, considered words.

First to Ktown, then Larchmont. Conversation struck over the typeface of a book visible within a purse. Cold fresh air that blows my hair into my lip gloss. Dinner with Grace. A mouthful of bitter tea, which keeps me from smiling at the handsome server that keeps walking past.

So much perfect.