1987: "Welcome to Winchester, Lex!" And so I am Lex. Winchester was a nice place to live for a year or two. I was amazed by the fact that everyone over the age of 18 had voted for Ronald Reagan and would, no doubt, continue the trend by voting for Bush a year later. Every street was lined with pine trees, oak trees and birch. In Winchester, I didn't have an allowance. I smoked my first cigarette, a spicy Egyptian brand in dark brown leaves my mother had acquired in her travels through Africa. The boy everyone was in love with drove a hot pink Volkswagon convertible bug and still managed to ripple with virility. He taught me that kind people can be almost as sexy as powerful people. I saw the space shuttle Challenger explode into fragments of fear and disappointment from the television in the living room. I had skipped school that day. Lex is dead. And gone. No one noticed her passing. Not even me. It's kind of sad, because I did rather like her, me, there. But such is the life of a yuppie hobo's daughter. | |
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