friday at five katya asked me to come pick her up. her car had started smoking on the freeway and she'd had to get off and go to the nearest mechanic. i couldn't get there until seven-thirty, after work. when i got there, the shop had been closed and she'd spent the past two-and-a-half hours at the mechanics' friday barbecue at the back of the shop, where she enjoyed guacamole and jalapenos with some armenian and egyptian mechanics and a pack of dogs. when we got home, miss tomb had a filet-o-fish and french fries waiting for me on the table. i nummed them down.then keith picked us up in his new mustang convertible and we whizzed around la with the top down until my eyes were red and dry. we danced around weho and after a miserable and sickly next morning bagel and i biked along the ballona creek trail to the beach, where the air was too still to fly my kite, and back.
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