Tracey and I had just finished watching the senior performance at the dance center and went outside to go home. I took a cab and she went home with Juan and his friend Tito. Later that day we walked past Tito and Tracey says all casually, "Tito is a nice guy, but he kept feeling me up on the way home." As she told me this, we were sitting at her kitchen table which was oriented lengthwise against the bright wall. She opened up a pack of Marlboro Lights from her purse and lit one up. Then she just sat there, looking tough and looking out into space with that stupid cigarette.