I turned down College Walk. The air sat thick, gooey. Termites swarmed the streetlights. The canal smelled like dead fish, was lined with plastic bottles. Stopping, I leaned over the wall, searching for floating bodies. My shadow shimmered. “Hey, handsome.” She came beside me. I could see us mirrored in the murky water. Turning, I faced her. There’s something amazing about the males. They take better care of themselves, are almost always more beautiful, than the heavily made-up women who turn tricks in Chinatown. “Sorry,” I said, “I’m not interested.” He smiled at me, and I watched him walk away.

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