“Do you know anyone who speaks Portugese?” I ask Jenna.
It’s the second Thursday of the month, the night of what I now think of as my women’s group, the one I made fun of a couple of months ago. I’m starting to enjoy it, and not just for the dough I rake in at poker.
“Someone here will,” Jenna says. “We’re that sort of people.”
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.