Her hair fell around her shoulders.Jesus. This was so fucking bad.But I couldn't leave."So um, what's your name?" I finally asked."Amanda," she said."...hat's your name?" she said."Joey," I said."Well uh, hi Joey. It's nice to meet you," Amanda said.And without another word, she untied her hockey pants. She pulled the tie off and then she unsnapped the belt. As she unsnapped the belt, her hockey pants loosened."Whoah, wait. Let me get my stuff and get out of here," I finally said."Well, that's. . .” she said. “A guy’s got to be prepared. No, I fix things for a living.” She looked at the kit on the table, the tools neatly stored in their own compartments, each where it belonged and shining under the store’s lights. Sandra’s thoughts flashed to her mother’s sewing kit with its thimbles, threads, needles, and buttons, a source of amazement when she was a girl. She felt, again, in the presence of practical artistry. “Can I see it?” she asked, a shy tone in her voice. Marshall pushed it. More

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