Bridges by Andrew Haicks

All pretty much burned.
Bakersfield Sue was blowing a day-glo yellow bubblegum
bubble with the kind of efficiency she brought to everything. The
thing already the size of a whoopee cushion. Sue Bee had a
freckleface redhead’s green eyes, clearer than a taxidermist’s
inserts. Until her face disappeared behind the bubble, they gazed
merrily-merrily-life-is-but-a-dreamily at me over the . . .
whatever. I had a door closer to fix.

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