Third Avenue
by Rosamund Lannin

Shani worked in the morning and went to school at night and at the end of most days she felt like a slowly deflating balloon. Especially when Caroline talked. Caroline was talking right now.

“And then he pulled it out and I was like what is that,” Caroline flipped her long, red-gold hair, a sure sign that she was coming up on the punchline: “We got going and I was like is that it, is it even in?”