Lodi tells Diana that in Chicago they are wearing sack dresses, and they are wearing thin, braided leather headbands. They are wearing hot pink, and they are wearing the brims of their baseball caps flat and turned up again. They are wearing paper denim, and they have jeans that flatten their asses out entirely. And they are staying out all night and they are doing cocaine again.
     "What a magical time it must be," says Diana.
     "If you only knew," says Lodi.
     Diana reaches into her purse and pulls out cigarettes. She shakes two free, and they wait for the man behind the bar to notice. They wait for him to offer to light their cigarettes for them. When this does not happen quite quickly enough, Diana says: "Richard, do you see what the two lovely young ladies at the bar are holding?"
     The bartender says: "I do. I do see what the two lovely young ladies at the bar are holding." He comes over with a pack of matches, bends one out of the booklet without breaking it off, flicks it against the coarse band with his thumb, and holds the pack out. Diana and Lodi lean in and light their cigarettes at the same time. When they lean back, the bartender holds the pack up, and snaps his fingers next to it, one finger flicking the cardboard extinguishing the flame in the jerk. He drops it next to them on the counter, and moves down to talk with a man about his age, a man drinking beer and wearing a Packers jacket.
     "That was," says Diana.
     "Quite impressive," says Lodi.
     "Quite impressive," says Diana.
     "And masculine," says Lodi. "Let's not forget masculine."
     "Extremely masculine," says Diana.
     "I might be a little moist," says Lodi.
     "In her private area," says Diana.
     "My super-private girl area," says Lodi
     Diana turns her chair to Lodi, and turns Lodi's chair to her. She grabs Lodi by the shoulders and looks at her. Lodi looks back. "But, mostly, let's," she says, "not forget masculine, shall we?"
     Lodi says, "No, no. Never. We'll never forget that." She turns back to the bar, and, with the back of her hand, knocks her drink over. The shot spills, runs the length of the empty bar to the end, and trickles over the side.
     "Let's not," says Lodi, picking up the pack of matches. "Let's not ever." Lodi strikes a match. She uses it to light all the remaining matches.
     Lodi holds the pack over the pooling alcohol.