\"Ever thought about letting me do something with your hair?\" Not needing an answer, Shari got up and whipped out a vented brush from an overstuffed drawer. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. And he did not lack courage. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. It was after all a momentary affair.
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