Lola hobbled on her broken heels down the side walk as the cold, biting rain drops stung her face, and burning tears streamed down her cheeks. Chills ran up and down her spine as the wind swirled around her bare shoulders and back. As the rain poured down, the short walk back to Washington Heights seemed to lengthen. The looming building seemed to get farther and farther away with each step Lola took. At least no one will see me cry...mother always said to never let anyone see you cry or at least that is what she probably meant when she told me to shut my face and quit all that blubbering. But it would not make any difference if she cried in Washington Heights. There was no one to see or even care for that matter. The torn, ripped feathers clung to her body, and as she walked, dragging her sequined headdress, she left a shining shimmering trail of sadness. When she got up to her apartment she looked in her makeshift vanity. Seeing the melted make up on her tear- stained face, the naked headdress, the ripped bodice, the soggy feathers, the beautiful heels, something inside Lola broke, shattered, and fell apart. She took off the dripping costume, delicately hanging her destroyed dream over her shower rod to dry. She slipped on her pajamas and dragged herself into bed where she cried herself to sleep.
********
Lola found herself staring at the tattered costume that had been hanging for months on the shower rod. She could not bring herself to touch it after what had happened, so she left it hanging there limp and lifeless. The satin had been so silky, the feathers so fluffy, the sequins so shiny. Now, everything was dull and ruined just as her dreams were. She ripped the costume from the shower rod, stuffed it into a box, and jammed the box onto the tiny top shelf of her closet. She could still see a teasing yellow feather sticking out of the box, taunting her, so she slammed the door shut. Lola had to leave. The box in the closet was just like the incessant beating of a heart beneath the floor boards or a watch with no hands and a broken face continuously ticking away, reminding her of regret and disappointment. Lola closed the door to her apartment and headed towards the elevator. No one was on the elevator, just as she had expected. She felt so alone in Washington Heights, it was only appropriate that she actually was alone. As she stepped out onto the side walk she heard police sirens, and frigid sleet slapped her in the face. A strange black van rolled silently past her. "Perhaps that van could take me far away from Washington Heights. Any place would be better than here. I just don’t see how anything could be much worse. I feel so very lonely and lost," thought Lola as she stared dreamily at the mysterious van. Just then, she saw Mandi Mac exit the building with a huge, deepening welt on the cheek and bruises on her wrist. At that moment, Lola knew that life could be much worse than she could even imagine, so she turned her frown upside down and picked herself up out of the pity party she had been attending.
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