On the way home from the bars Saturday night, Pookie got hungry for some salt. Our dinner had been a horrendous amount of chocolate cake. Six hours later, our tummies longed for something hot and satisfying. We stopped in a pizza joint and picked up a slice. The young, drunk people of Arizona clogged the sidewalks, and Pookie meandered down the blocks nomming her greasy snack as beats bumped from underground and girls in heels cackled. We passed an art store, and her eyes filled like little moonpuddles of desire.
As she stood there, looking in at the dark shop...there was something familiar to me. Ah. Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Midnight Snack at The Art Supply Store
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