She steps
out of the
fog that
hangs around
until noon
every day
this time
of year, furtive,
turning to
see if he
is still following,
the one who
knows about
the stain on
her best coat,
the one she
left under
Santa Monica
Pier.
Noir
Notes from One Writer to Another
One Way to Wonder 
ooh, very moody. Hits “noir” on the head.
Thanks, Jane : )