Sally made downtown feel like home. When skateboard gangs weaved against traffic in the Atteline Square, she mentioned how Romantic it was. I needed that. And Sally was always eager to talk about her sex life. She was unlucky in that respect, but it made for good storytelling. “It’s like a fucking tragedy,” she would say, and in that way which made you feel like it was but that she was getting over it by telling you. Her blouses fell always lightly over her frame. She had large eyes. Her sense of self was a like a screen door that never stayed closed by itself and had to be latched with tape—sometimes you would walk right into it without warning, embarrassingly, thinking it wasn’t there. I couldn’t imagine that she even existed when not with me. Sally—downtown was achy and bloodless when you took those weekend trips to the beach.