A fragment of a sentence overheard in a crowded elevator;
“…and then the girl fell and caught her dress on a rose bush that…”
I watched them walk away, the girl staring at the boy with that wide-eyed anticipation girls have sometimes before they’ve fucked their boyfriend and the mystery disappears.
“How old do you think she is?”
Nick looked up from the book he was reading and sighed.
“You know, Anna, a minute ago they didn’t even exist to you and now I bet you’ve imagined them a whole life. And how does it all end? What tragic Jerry Springeresque bullshit drama have you written for these two?”
The elevator doors opened. I took Nicks hand and pulled him out into the warm evening. We walked silently along the dimly lit streets, a plastic shopping bag blew by and I watched its ghostly form drift down the sidewalk.
“Nick.”
What?”
I let go of his hand and pulled out a thin pink cigarette from the pocket of my jacket but I didn’t light it.
“Do you remember what it was like to be a child, I mean, do you really remember?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
I watched the cars stream by in a steady procession. I put the cigarette in my mouth and chewed on the butt. The soles of Nick’s combat boots slapped the pavement with a kind of sick thud. He was wearing his favorite CRASS t-shirt and a pair of faded black jeans. His spiky black hair always reminded me of Snoopy’s bird friend, Woodstock.

It seemed simple enough. Fill in the blanks.