Trees - 72
As I turned the corner, pizza in one hand and my key in the other, Kim shouted, “Girl! Ooh, girl, what’s your numba,” and I looked up through the heat-parched trees to see her perched on the windowsill of my room. “Girl, you got an ass on you, mm, bring that up here, girl,” she called down to me in her Tuscaloosa drawl, scarred knees shrugged close, and I couldn’t help laughing.
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