This woman in the elevator reminded me of her. But she smoked cigars and once broke a bottle and challenged everyone inside of a bowling alley. I hated bowling. I have long bony fingers and they would begin to hurt after the first game, but she would continue until she saw I wasn't capable of putting them into my pocket without them being crippled into a fist. I loved her. I loved the way she smelled it was like cinnamon bread, smoke and turmeric. But most of all I loved her attitude. I could build a home around the fact that she had a side that she like to chose on just about every subject. On top of it all she held fucking firm even when logic was completely evaporated. A commercial, bus advertisement or the New York Times could never change the way she felt about whatever she felt about.

She was wrong on a few of them. But fuck; it was something about the fact that she was adamant. Just being adamant seem to distract me from any questions about her sanity. I missed her. I didn't know what I believe until I had her to oppose it.