Biddy owed all around town. And not necessarily money. She had faced challenges her entire life. No more so than in the last few years. She was getting older and her looks were struggling to keep the pace with her impromptu ploys and immature whit. There was always a risk to playing the damsel. Distress was actually a heavy effect. Biddy was growing tired of carrying the weight. Still, it was so very necessary. If she was ever to be fully believed, then staying in character would have to become code for looking in the mirror, and being okay with what she would always see. Biddy liked cold beverages. That was at the bottom of the totem pole due to how quickly the glass grew warm when just as quickly, it was emptied. Biddy liked purses, especially the ones that were waving while her arms remained close to her sides. She believed that the giant logos of the fashion houses that ordained the shouldered fabric were at there best, flirting finger tips and at worst, a sophistication that was impossible to ignore. Yet, neither interpretation was steadfast in love or better yet, enduring attention. So, Biddy bounced around, from target to target, all the while, cursing the streaks on the mirror. Maybe her only problem was that she needed cleaning help. That would require a different type of self pity, one with a newness that would make it difficult to pile on her father who left when Biddy was twelve. They had reconnected for a few years when she was in her early 20’s, right around the time she was in a healthy relationship. Her friends called it that because there were actually dates, preset meetings where both parties agreed and showed up. Last week, while moaning from her balcony, as a pack of joggers lurched and grunted, straddling the curb and the street far below, Biddy had added the word ‘healthy’ to her relationship. It had been a long time coming and suddenly, she was not even sure the joggers were jogging. They may have been stretching or begging for spare change. She had thought about tossing an old pair of shoes. But they had once belonged to pair of apologetic brown eyes, with a well-cropped 5’o clock shadow. Besides, even poor people deserved to be to in style, and shoes could make or break a person’s fashion sense. Biddy had a good heart, she cared too much, and deserved all the attention she could get. Woody seemed knowledgeable and kind, but he was old and his entire body was worn and lined. Biddy smiled at Woody with a healthy affection, he reminded her that he was overdue, and she needed a new leather handbag.