After the silence there’s company. One of the workers isn’t prepared—no tools, no helmet, taking innumerable breaks, smoking breaks, and eating things from the refrigerator without asking. Serendipità finds her on the balcony, sitting down. She doesn’t reprimand her, but they both know she shouldn’t be out there, and that she shouldn’t be sitting. They sit together. Serendipità doesn’t know the worker’s name. While the others bang on the walls and ceilings, they sit together. They feed each other anchovies from a can. The others stand under the red ladder with dust on their arms, with dust on their construction boots, their helmets.

After the silence there’s company. It’s a day for company. They come over in large groups. They drink tea, they discuss politics or the latest societal scandals, the weather. It’s festive and slow. The one hundred construction workers are there, working around the festivities (except for the one construction worker who isn’t working and isn’t prepared).

This is Serendipità’s least favorite day; she doesn’t like gatherings or small talk. She’s in a black dress, velvet. She wears earrings that touch her shoulders. A large part of her back is exposed, a large v of skin, and the muscles in her back move as she moves to pick things up. She sometimes moves to the pitch-black bedroom to rest. After the day of silence the talk of this day burdens—piercing laughter and lipstick on teeth.

The company leaves without Serendipità seeing them out.

(There is a day that cannot be commented upon. It exists and it consists of an extension cord, grape jelly, and hominy grits.)

On the day all the hair is removed Serendipità is pensive. She likes this day, not as much as the day with the sea, not as much as the day of silence. On this day she takes a bath. With lavender oil, peppermint oil, rose water, with differently sized candles nearby, the Bible nearby. After, she covers her body with more oil but also with lotion, creams, body butter.

She goes out. In her shortest dress, with her arms bare, her scalp bare, she wears no makeup. Her bald head feels cold when the wind comes by. She sits on a park bench. Very few people are outside, a handful. They also wear their skimpiest attire, their arms bare, they wear no makeup. It’s a day for exposure, but most don’t take the chance. Most do not dare. Despite the lack of pubic hair, and none inside the nose, none in and around the anus, most don’t dare. No eyebrows, no eyelashes, no false eyelashes. It’s a day meant to cleanse and expose.