the sign

She's still thinking of Blue, she turns and the blue car, washed by yesterdays rain could clearly mean nothing, though she will give it a story.

They dash out of the door, the buses on San Pablo only run every 20 minutes. They thought they could sneak in a coffee while waiting for the bus and they do, coffee cups in hand they catch the doors as they are closing and get on, laughing at each other's breathlessness they sit, kissing with coffee breath. Peeling off a layer of hat or scarf they drift into silence. He's worried about the car, there's been too many expenses this month and he doesn't like how money leeches his sense of providing for them both. She's got her job, and she'd feel slighted if he told her he's worried because she feels he doesn't value what she's doing, but he wants to carry more than half the weight. It's nothing more than pride, he knows he's setting himself up.

The thought of leaving the timing belt un-repaired and using buses is appealing right now, parkings always a bitch, too often someone is finding his space on the block on Dwight Way, where he has all day parking. He likes that the bus goes close enough to his studio and the walk to and from home makes up for no exercise he's been getting since giving up the gym. Giving up, they're both always trying to figure out what to give up. The coffee out? no, it makes them feel rich to see the neighbors and friends, and the friends with kids, they can smile and be pleasant with the kids eating biscotti without having to sit in their houses while Molly/Brent or which ever child whines for more food, more attention, more cartoons. They don't want kids. Thats an easy choice right now, They see how thats the worst possible financial decision for them. They've already given up ski trips, and they might give up the Sunday paper. But the car, no wheels, he slides into the thought, no car for going to see the music, the stuff they've been getting into lately which is not playing locally, it's a hard one, 'fuck the money, we need the car, we'll cut corners somewhere else' he thinks, he turns to her and smiles, he loves looking at her lately, he loves how much he's come to brush her cheek with his finger, waking her in the mornings the same way each day, her downy hair from her ear to her jaw bone, the few freckles there, distinguishing her cheek from other cheeks.