"Too dirty?""Maybe Ill let you read one sometime.""Whiskey and apples go together. Fix me a drink, darling. Then you read me astory yourself."Very fg for a file; worse, when Idid seem to have her i, there was actually a telltale frost over her eyes, as ifshe were w whether to buy a pair of shoes shed seen in some window."Is that the end?" she asked, waking up. She floundered for something more tosay. "Of course I like dykes themselves. They dont scare me a bit. But stories aboutdykes bore the bejesus out of me. I just t put myself in their shoes. Well really,darling," she said, because I was clearly puzzled, "if its not about a couple of oldbull-dykes, what the hell is it about?"But I was in no mood to pound the mistake of havihe story with thefurther embarrassment of expining it. The same vanity that had led to suchexposure, now forced me to mark her down as an iive, mindless show-off."Ially," she said, "do you happen to know any nice lesbians? Im lookingfor a roommatarry such cachet ter on to becalled Mrs. Something Ahats not true!" She was staring at an arm clo the table. "It t be four-thirty!"The window was turning blue. A sunrise breeze bahe curtains."What is today?""Thursday.""Thursday." She stood up. "My God," she said, and sat down again with a moan."Its too gruesome."I was tired enough not to be curious. I y down on the bed and closed my eyes.Still it was irresistible: "Whats gruesome about Thursday?""Nothing. Except that I ever remember when its ing. Yo九_九_藏_書_網u see, onThursdays I have to catch the eight forty-five. Theyre so particur about visitinghours, so if youre there by ten that gives you an hour before the poor melunch. Think of it, lunch at eleven. You go at two, and Id so much rather, but helikes me to e in the m, he says it sets him up for the rest of the day. Ivegot to stay awake," she said, ping her cheeks until the roses came, "there isnttime to sleep, Id look ptive, Id sag like a te, and that wouldnt befair: a girl t go to Sing Sing with a green face.""I suppose not." The anger I felt at her over my story was ebbing; she absorbedme again."All the visitors do make an effort to look their best, and its very tender, itssweet as hell, the way the womeheir prettiest everything, I mean the oldones and the really poor ooo, they make the dearest effort to look nidsmell oo, and I love them for it. I love the kids too, especially the colored ones.