Secret Queen

A woman strides with purpose through the dense fog, holding a conversation with an invisible partner. Her leopard-print housecoat billows behind her like a cape; fur-topped boots cap bare, muscular legs, while comic book boxers and a black t-shirt complete her ensemble.

She pauses in front of a coffee shop, bending from the waist to snatch something from the concrete. She sniffs it, takes a bite, spits it into a trash can, shakes out her curls, and resumes her rounds.