The day I'm thinking of, the men were talking at a table behind the building. The ground is concrete and the walls cinderblock, sprouting wood fence demands I inspect edges for something to kick and risk falling flat face-down. The table is not steady. They were repeating the same words to each other and becoming frustrated while the bottles unsteady on the table stayed sealed.

There was brainstorming, as the fleets flew overhead and the wind blew. The man with the beard suggests killing someone, sometimes, though I'm very likely misunderstanding him as there's no way for him to know what's on my mind. That day he threw the bottle of wine against the wall and it shattered, and I ran three steps before stopping and feeling exhausted right there in that tiny space. Then I went to my day job and got myself fired.

When I went downtown for an interview, for a new job, I realized I was early and stepped into the service stairwell to slip off the pants I'd walked in, becoming a girl in a skirt, someone I haven't minded being in the past. Killing people has seemed like a good idea at points as well. I do a lot of volunteer work but need a job now. I like to shove my hands into pockets. The man with the beard has a quality to him that I'd like to shove into my pocket somehow too, but I wouldn't try.

The interview felt like Goldilocks and a shoe. The last time I saw the band onstage, the singer, the man with the face, gave me a look of such horror that I looked around with an expression that made men begin talking to me right away. I think of lovers I've had this year and feel tired and afraid and don't want to be standing in a bar. The interview conference room was spare and clean, with telephones and power sources on the floor, almost uncomfortably warm. I'd folded my leather jacket to hide the shreds of pink lining- To be replaced. Feeling like Goldilocks, being in the right place, was very fine despite it all. Just not fine enough; I wait for a second interview.

Something's happened since I've had a job. Look at the cloud, I could say, doesn't it look like an overseeing angel? It looks like a crow, I might hear back. Here is it's head, and here are it's wings spread like it's trying to land. I still see a cloud person, all fluff on it's belly.