I shook my head. Should I throw them away now, once and for all? I reached for them, but then withdrew my hand. Might as well wait until the basket was full. Then I’d just toss everything, including those traitors, into a garbage bag and consign it to the big can downstairs. I dressed in the gender-neutral downtown uniform: black jeans, black shirt, black ankle boots, long leather jacket. I was going for hyper low profile. I met my father for lunch once dressed like this and he had asked me in all earnestness what had happened in my life to make me want to look like Johnny Cash. I gave a minute’s thought to wearing a tie, but then decided against it; it would probably just call more attention to those natural resources on my chest. Sure, I wanted to make a few dollars, but that wasn’t the chief reason for hitting the street that day. I planned to set up shop at 15th and Broadway, Ida’s old corner—just hang over there and talk to some of the other street vendors. I figured one of them must have at least known where she lived.
