"So you wanna know what Kerri's like, huh?" she asked, lighting another cigarette. Her leg swung over the backwards-facing chair and she leaned her arms on the back. The zipper of her leather jacket flashed in the light from behind the diner's long Formica counter, and she grinned in the cock-eyed way of someone trying to avoid smoke getting in their eye from the cigarette hanging in the corner of their mouth.

"I can tell ya all about her. She's been with me since the beginning. Nice gal. Kinda ditzy sometimes, but hey - whaddaya expect?" She laughed at that, and waved over the reporter's shoulder at someone else coming in that she knew. Clearing his throat, the reporter pulled out his notebook and began to write, trying to keep up with MacKenzie's rapid-fire details.

"She's smart, I guess. Not too smart though, or she woulda finished school. I guess we can't all be perfect. Thinks she's like to be a writer," she said, a short look of contempt coming over her face. "I don't know why she hasn't done it, but I guess it takes guts ya know?" The reporter nodded, smiling. "She's written a lot of poetry," MacKenzie continued, "but not much in the way of short stories. I hear she's taking a class to work on that. Probably needs it.

"I guess the reason that she and I are such good buddies is that she needs me, mostly. She needs to have someone who can do all the things that she ain't got the guts to do, and all the money and power to do 'em. Like my Harley - she'd never ride one, never have the money to buy one. But she sure does let me ride. Oh, yeaaah." She took a long sip of coffee, and looked into the nearly-empty cup. She sat silently for a moment, composing her thoughts and crushing out her cigarette in the tiny bar ashtray on the table. Then she looked up at the reporter, an honest look that didn't seem to fit her.

"You know, I don't understand her. But she's a part of me, ya know? Just like I'm a part of her. I guess we're all part of one another, aren't we? Maybe that's why old people are so stooped over - takin' on parts of everyone they meet all their lives, makes 'em bent over like that." The reporter looked at MacKenzie, stunned at the sudden depth of the conversation. But before he could reply, MacKenzie grinned, stood up again, grabbed her cigarettes, patted him on the back, and walked away.