EVERYWHERE, THE VACUUM PROWLED

I smiled a little and made a rep for gnarled people. "What's under those shaggy hands?" I asked. She trimmed off, and with a wide grey thank you, stepped sidewise. "You knew somebody - quickly - anybody moved below, and they did." She pined for her own language but nothing. I established an ecstatic chin, "I played pool one dull-green summer, and where were your small beaches?" Making change, she stood, "In sandlots on the roof... inland." That laced up wisely, like a hundred dollars, but we never thought to paint the ceiling. She leaned on another customer. His name: Curtains. He was well-set glass and shaped like a telephone.