No, she loved people. People were great. Even that dolt on the bus. He’d probably given her that cranky look because he’d had a bad day, which, given that ugly mug? No surprise there. Who’d marry that? Nah, even ugly folks got married. They married other uglies. It all worked out. Plus, she herself wasn’t married. At the moment. She’d been married once. To Norbert. Norb the Orb. That ugly guy on the bus had probably never been married at all. Too ugly. Poor dope. Once the cranky look faded off that dweeb’s judgmental puss, he’d gone back to staring out the window, all sad now, like he was thinking back to when he was in grade school and all of life was still ahead of him and he hadn’t yet realized how ugly he was. Or maybe he only got ugly later, gradually, in high school. He’d stand at the mirror before gym class, going: What the what? Is my face ever going back to regular?

But no, it wasn’t.

After dark the bus windows turned into mirrors. She’d sat there looking at that sad look on the guy’s ugly mug being reflected in the mirror the window had just become. Looking at his reflection, she’d seen her reflection, and guess what? Same sad look.

Ah, jeez, why sad, what am I sad about? she’d thought. Nothing, nothing, I’m happy, lucky, going home to two great kids. Out of jail and back to work. With four rolls of paper towels I didn’t even pay for. And a thingie of coffee in the old purserino.

Then the face of hers she saw in the bus window was: ornery.

Gen swiveled her chair to stretch her legs. Wow, her legs were, she had to say, gloriously long. She was like some kind of gorgeous thoroughbred. If she said so herself. Which she did. Got it? Flaunt it.

Although she did not feel at peace. Why not? Think it through.

Well, Ed had just texted again. Third time today. Could they meet at Seneca Park? Just to talk? An hour without her seemed like a year, he’d said. All morning he’d been dreaming of the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of himself inside her.

It was wrong but felt so right.