Chapter II - Sylvia's Thursday
At precisely 4:30, I locked the door to the house and went to my car. Sylvia was standing next to it nervously clutching a small overnight case. She was dressed in her usual costume, a too-large jacket over a bulky sweater and baggy jeans.
"Good afternoon," I said, "so, do I need to check in the suitcase?"
Sylvia shook her head. I took the case from her and put it with mine in the back seat.
"Good, now I want you to strip off all your clothes and run down the street yelling 'Fuck me!"
Sylvia's eyes got really big. Tears began began to pour down her face. Her hand slowly crept up to her jacket and began to undo it.
I looked up at the sky and slowly said, "Let's see, what was that first rule?" as I tapped my index finger against my chin, "something about a word?"
I heard a soft voice tentatively say, "Stop!?"
"Good idea. That would be a very stupid thing to do, wouldn't it. Running down your own street naked. And yelling? Might wake up a neighbour! Stupid. Ok, let's go and have a good time instead." I opened the passenger door and ushered her in.
Sylvia stood staring at me as she buttoned up her jacket.
Softly I explained, "Do you understand the first rule now?"
Slowly, she nodded.
"Then, let's go."
She sat as far away from me as the door would allow, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was rigid and no air conditioner could have been so cold. The only sounds were those of the car. I let her sit and stew.