Odilie had never loved the way she’d looked. But she hadn’t hated it, either. She kind of accepted it as her lot in life. She saw her mother’s eyes, her father’s nose and lips, all the little makings of one whole face that was her own, nothing more, nothing less. She knew she wasn’t ugly by any means. But she was also fairly realistic about herself. Her looks weren’t going to stop traffic. If anything, they’d quicken it, like her magic power consisted of blending in with the roads, the streetlights, the trees lining the interstate.

Her body served its function. She didn’t think about it much, except how to occasionally decorate it, what colors to paint her nails, that sort of thing. Like every other woman on the planet, she had bad body image days. But for the most part, she didn’t think about any of it. She existed in space and that was the extent of it.

Peri had been the first person, the first woman, Odilie had seen who really owned herself, who was aware and had intention behind every movement, every slight bend of a finger, every tilt of her head. When Peri occupied space, she possessed it, like the air itself would leave an outline when she exited a room.

When Odilie knew that Peri would walk out in exactly two minutes, with the little goody bag of toothbrush and floss they gave away after every cleaning, Odilie stepped out of the car.

Then, as if this were her evening routine, she plucked a cigarette from the freshly unwrapped pack she’d grabbed from the gas station on her way to work today, and lit it, leaning against her car, her rear touching the driver’s side door handle.

She didn’t inhale. She let the embers eat at the tobacco. Until, finally, she saw a figure head out of the glass-paned doors, the dentistry office’s name etched in white, and walk toward the parking lot. Peri’s hair had so much bounce, even from here, a glossy brown buoy in a sea of cars and offices and asphalt.

Odilie held her breath. She inhaled the nicotine. She exhaled. And then Peri was walking toward her, toward her own car. And Odilie waved slightly, using her hand holding the cigarette, the way she’d practiced in front of the mirror. A casual, almost nonchalant movement.

And Peri caught her eye. She smiled. “I’m a bad influence, aren’t I?” she called, making her way slowly but assuredly to Odilie.

“You were right. It’s more relaxing than the gum. And better on the teeth.”