Bianca didn’t wash her hair last night. She stands barefoot on the front porch smoking a cigarette. She has an old navy hoodie pulled over the cobalt blue dress she wore the night before. Sitting in a chair next to her is James, a tall drink of deadpan wearing boots, black jeans, a black peacoat, a black beanie, and dark tinted elton john sunglasses. Bianca turns to him and not so much questioning, but stating matter of factly says:
can you move that grocery cart please.
can you justpleasepickitup and move it out of here. i always do nice things for you.
nice things? what does that even mean? i know you always say that you do nice things for me, but i thought about it and i want to you to name some of these nice things you’ve done for me.. recently.
JAMES! i’m not going to list all the things i’ve done for you. i’ve done a lot and you know that. please just move it.
alright. but only if you get in the grocery cart.
oh i already know about it mikey pushed me home all the way in it.
OH so you know about it! You know how it got here! Because you brought it here!
…ill only do it if you get in the cart.
fine please will you just hold this then.
Bianca places her cigarette to her lips and hand’s James her beer. She groans as she walks down the steps and begins to heave the plastic and steel beast onto its wobbly plastic wheels.
you can do this by yourself right now. look you’re doing it.
…i look like a meth head.
you can do this. youre a strong woman!
IM NOT WEARING SHOES! IT HURTS IT HURTS!
you look like a fucking scrub!!
take a picture!!