One of us is waking up to the inconsolable bars of a country song at 7am. The other is still awake, in a bar downtown, holding out a shoulder to a stumbling drunk with a dead could-have-been-lover. One of us is in the shower, the other still stinks like sex in the boys room. One of us has one leash around her neck, and one in her purse. One of us has a broken checkbook, and a broken home, a broken heart, but wings unclipped so long she can fly straight up like a helicopter.

One of us needs brake shoes, and one of us needs new shoes. One of us believes in the system and the health care and an eye for an eye because we've done all we can and it's not getting us anywhere. One of us believes she'll take a walk on the beach this afternoon. One of us is checking her messages and cc'ing the relevant parties. The other is fitful with joy every five minutes, when she checks her pulse and sees that she's a miracle.

One of us is guilty, the other is innocent. One of us will be judged, and the other will be ignored. One of us will go home and pretend and the other will stay out again tonight, all night, and lie for a better truth.

One of us is wishing she were the other.