Liam

“Everyone thinks I came as Jackie O,” Mariana wryly told him, “but I didn’t.” Her hands joined at her waist, a small purse dangled from a wrist. “It’s the hat and the sunglasses, I suppose,” she said, “that make me look like Jackie O.” Angelo squinted, cocked his head. Mariana’s knees touched, one heel rose from the floor. “I’m not,” she added, “nearly as pretty though.” Angelo stopped squinting, reached for a drink.