This lady's voice comes through the intercom around 2 a.m. She sounds British. She orders a tea. Yep, she is.
"Any sugar with that, lady?" I ask her.
She takes the hot tea from my hand, pauses, and looks me over. I feel like an object. "No, thanks, honey," she says. "I'm already too sweet."
I take her money, close the window and gather up her change. I can feel her stare. I hand her back a couple pennies and a quarter.
"But I'm not always sweet," she says.
The Sensible Skinhead walks behind me. The British chick, who looks to be about 40, notices him. "Oh, you aren't alone," she says. "I thought you might have been alone."
She drives off.