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Silence: The car is stopped in front of her house, rented. This is a moment that is worth enjoying, because she is so tired. And it is late. Between the two, she can relax. Tomorrow is another day but for now she can relax. This day is over. It hardly mattered that she made very little money tonight. There is a bed waiting for her right now. It will feel good to get in, feel the cool smoothness of the sheets, and drift off. She will shower first. There was a guy who spat as he talked to her cheek. Another guy seemed to use her as a towel to wipe off the condensation from his beer bottles. Not to mention the smoke and not to mention the hand grease on the poles and the guy who stretched out his neck to lick one of her nipples and the drunk, fat lesbo who kept hitting on her and not to mention the general filth of the place. Bar rags and floor-lint collectors weren't good for much. She realizes her ears are ringing. Goddamn DJ had it cranked up too loud again. Could bad breath actually leave a film on the skin? It felt like it. Or maybe it was the thick makeup. Her hands felt dirty, still wrapped around the steering wheel. Her eyes are closing. Oh shit, she says, remembering. She starts the car again and reverses out, hoping that the sitter isn't too pissed off that she is late and that the kids don't give her any trouble.