She stops a man in an orange vest and points at the package of screws she put in her cart. “What do you think? Are these all the screws I need?” “It depends. What do you need them for?” “I mean screws that I might need, like, in general. Just generally.” The man looks at her. Alicia-as-Jen stands up straighter, as if she’s un-kinking to allow circulation of a brilliant substance that flows throughout her body. “I’m actually an artist, you know? So I want to keep myself open. I want to know that if an idea strikes me, I’ll have enough screws.” “What type of wood are you working with?” “All
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