jenny from the block

traveling is all fun and games til you stumble into a town run by the American dream

inside the casinos,

within the walls of downtown,

on the surface,

Reno is, on a smaller scale, a version of vegas.

then you look again, and realize those games were tricks, and the joke is on you. and me. and your neighbors, and mine. and the magic trick of Reno is it makes you think you can win it all back. maybe this time will be your big break.

we can afford to keep the lights on because we keep the conveyor belt running. an air filter that’s never been changed. manual labor in july. being threatened for calling in sick. smoking cigarettes inside.

a shadowy figure in the shape of your dad, you’ve seen this episode before. it says sorry and you believe it.

who is Jenny, by the way?

the same as you. and me. and your mother, and mine. all just one

lost job

divorce

natural disaster

away from losing everything.

the only work to be done is the same work you’ve been doing since day one.

Jennifer Oakes, she worries she’s the last one.

was it a performance, to buy a bagel and tea for the unhoused person in this coffee shop?

if it was, was I believable?

if it was, were you emotionally invested?

if it was, do you think the snow outside added to the scene?

if it was, what part(s) stood out to you?

if it was, did I inspire you to try it yourself?

she worries they’ll kill her.

without those pesky bright and flashing lights, it’s easier to see behind the curtain. at the very bottom of the 27th floor suite is where you can find the broken bodies and frozen bank accounts of the Renoites who made this the biggest little city in the world. if you think you get to have your cake and eat it too, remember: there is always a victim, this time it’s just someone else.

but then again, maybe not, she prefers to keep positive.