Pur Yellow and Blue Professional Paint Brushes

Pamela came clean on the back end of a 1000 cc Harley. The red light lingered so she leaned in closer than usual, like the time at school lunch when she suddenly found staring up at her from her worn shoes a $10 bill that clearly belonged to one of the other girls, but she bent down slow and careful, her eyes fixed on everyone and nothing at the same time, hoping to appear invisible while her hand reached down to the bill, now safely secured under that same dusty shoe, her fingers wildly searching for a bit of that texture we are all somehow familiar with, as if the excitement at the feel of paper money was something evolved in all of us, and when she grasped it, she grasped at it hard and tight, like she had searched for it in a dream, and she crumpled it up in hand, and she drew her fist close to her chest and kept it there, as still as a mountain lake at dusk; and that's how she leaned into him on the back of that bike: close and still, so she could feel his sides contract and expand with each warm breath, close enough to notice the thump of his heart through the leather jacket; and she whispered to him through his curtain of hair, and wrapped her arms a little tighter, and then the light turned green and they were off again, once more, once more.