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So I’m strollin’ past her corner—smells like cheap fags and regret. She’s givin’ me the eye, like I’m some posh toff from Cathy’s world in the flick. “What’s a gent like you doin’ here?” she croaks. Voice like gravel— probs smoked 20 a day since she was 12. I’m fumin’, cos who’s she callin’ gent? Cheeky cow! But then—surprise—she’s got this cracked smile, proper human, y’know? Reminds me of Cathy’s fake grin when she’s hidin’ her misery. “It’s all pretend,” I mutter, kickin’ a can down the road.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on. Thank goodness! I finish up with Carla, and she looks in the mirror, all happy. “You’re a magician!” she says. I’m like, “Nah, just a barber with a flashlight.”

Figure 1. XRD diffractogram pattern of basalt samples before and after...