Hooks Eyes & Stomachs

The two girls were roommates. No, not that kind of roommate. No, not that kind either. It was a Sunday afternoon and their upstairs neighbor was having uncomfortably loud sex again. (Combined with the screaming one-sided conversations that were hopefully requiring the use of a phone, they guessed the neighbor was back off the anti-depressants.) So here they were, standing around in the Salvation Army on Geary, picking stuff up and putting it down, waiting to go across the street and play pool as soon as the bar opened. "I'm going to go back and look at the books."

"I'm not. That kid I give food to is back there."

"Which one?" She moved closer in and spoke more quietly. "The blonde one in the red shirt? Male or female?"

"Yes, the blonde, and I don't know for sure."

Abruptly, both pretended to browse the rack of kid's clothes in front of them even though it had already exhausted their interest.

"You know, these kid's clothes wouldn't fit you if you'd eat those leftovers instead of giving them away."

"Pot calls kettle what?"

"What?"

"Black. I'm not the one who goes to the gym instead of lunch."

"That's not pots and kettles, that's apples and oranges." She again considered a pale t-shirt that she could add to the pile of craftable clothes in that one box in the hall closet, and put it back on the rack. "I thought you two talked and stuff, you know, when you handed over the food."

"We do, just about the restaurants and stuff. Sometimes he has the scoop. He knew that burger place was going to open before I did. I think he mostly waits outside nice places or newer places and never asks for money, just food. And smokes with the workers, you know, and hears about shit that way, I guess."

"So he's friendly and not creepy. Why are you nervous to look at the books then, just because he's back there?"

She shrugged and didn't even feel the half-price, horrendously pink chenille sweater in her hands. "It's not that I'm nervous. But we're not friends. I see him in front of the coffee shop next to our building almost every morning, and sometimes when I get home even, if I go out after bartime. And I give him my leftovers. That's all it needs to be. And I have a stack of books at home to read."

"He's kind of cute."

"If you hook up with him, I will kill you."

"I wonder if we've heard him have sex with the neighbor?"

"Okay, now I feel I need to wash my hands more than I usually do after being in here."

"Well, it's five. You can wash your hands at Whiskey and we'll play some pool." They meandered stonily towards the door, around the other shoppers.

"When it feels like time to eat later, let's go to the Turkish place up the block. Those sandwiches are amazing."

"Those sandwiches you can only eat half of?"

"Yeah. I want to get some soup too. I've been feeling like soup lately." She looked behind her, didn't see the dirty blonde hair and slight frame. "And some baklava. He looks like he's lost weight."