She sits in front
of the 7-11, a cup
for spare change in
her hand. Her eyes are
still clear. He comes out
of the store, I’ve seen them
together before. She is quite
young, maybe 17 years old, he is
quite high on heroin, possibly early
20’s, heavy lidded eyes, he scratches
his nose. “We’re going to get married,”
he says to me as he hands her a cardboard
sign to hold that says, “broke and hungry,
please help.” “I just don’t have the cash for
the ring yet,” is what he says as he looks at me
with pinned eyes. She says, “Maybe we’ll go to
Florida where the nights are warm. When we get
the money.” He sits
next to her, closes his
eyes, his head tips forward.
She places her arm around his
shoulders. “I got me a good one,
eh,” she says with a big smile, wide
innocent eyes. I don’t know what to
say. I want to shake her, wake her up
from whatever keeps her asleep. Her eyes
are still clear, he hasn’t turned her on to the
heroin yet. I can still see them, sitting
in front of the 7-11 in the heart
of Central Square. They
haven’t got to Florida yet.
They’re still sitting there.