The skateboard is a low rumble roar along Gertrude Street as it approaches Deadman's Lane. I see her through the cafe's side window. She is a one second blur of cool. She's got long jet-black hair that trails in the wind, a long lacy skirt that does the same, dark patterned leggings beneath. She rumble-roars past the door, stops and kicks the back of her board, tips and catches. She does this just as I go through the door with a soy flat white for one of our regulars.
Heading back to the door, Skateboard Girl stops me and asks me if I am the manager. She asks me this in the accent of my favourite city.
Yes, I tell her, I am the manager.
I am looking for a job, she tells me, I am here from Barcelona and I am looking for a job.
I tell her we have nothing immediately. Kafka Woman has changed her plans and apparently I will be enjoying her company for a few more months. I can't express how grateful I am for this. I tell Skateboard Girl that I won't have anything for at least a couple of months. I tell her that Barcelona is my favourite city, and we chat briefly.
It was a cool little indie movie moment. It all happened in black and white, shot and directed by Jim Jarmusch.
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