Balancing Beam

Keep them Safe

Dina Cohen

I

watch as she drums her magenta plastic talons of one hand on the faux-marble countertop. Clippety-clop, clippety-clop. With the other hand, she drags on a cigarette, blowing out puffs of white smoke in between scowling.

Multitasking at its finest.

I want to scowl, too.

I don’t.

But it takes the self-control of a saint. Which I’m not.

“Mindy, I don’t allow smoking in my house,” I say.

She kicks the leg of the barstool she’s perched on. “It’s cold outside, Dina,” she gripes.