“And furthermore,” the woman who had recently turned fifty said, “Now that I’m over fifty another thing I’m not going to do is refuse to see past the surface. And that includes automatically thinking that a factory worker from ______, Ohio who wears blue eye shadow couldn’t possibly be a friend.” “Oh, wow,” said the factory worker’s factory-working friend. “We’re so pleased that you have deigned to come down to our level. Going slumming, are we? You middle class fuck, we don’t need your patronizing sacrifices.” A week ago, the factory worker would have agreed, and gone right on chomping down potato chips till her break was over, then returned, back aching as usual, to the line. But now she said, “No, wait. I think maybe she’s okay. Like maybe she’s really just trying to break out of a mold she’s been in all her life. One her parents put her in, her schools, whatever. I mean it’s not like I’ve never tried to break out of a mold before, too, you know.”