“Don’t hate me because I have a red purse from Italy,” I told the soldier as I pulled my new red purse from the bag yesterday. “Look at this clash,” I said, holding the bag against my the palette that was the rest of my clothing. Is this wonderful or what?”

He laughed. “What is it with the clash? What’s that, why do you clash?”

“You can do it if you have a jarring personality like I do. I can get away with this clashing business because I am clashing myself so I do it.”

“Then why don’t you have cat eye glasses with studs in them”

“Don’t give me ideas,” I said. “You best not give me ideas and don’t tell me you’re not attracted,” I said waving the red purse like a flag. “Don’t tell me the bull is not attracted to this because I know damned well he is. Just look at you froth. I think it’s just hopeless for you with me and this purse hanging around. You know…. checkmate. Check f’kin’ mate.”