[ She's not in the country when life — with all of its ins and outs, with all of its bitter ironies — finally catches up with Barry Weiss. When she gets back from her bloody tour of eastern Europe, it's to the tune of text messages that never get answered and phone calls that go straight to voicemail. When Polly Q goes sniffing around the usual dives, nobody will answer her; they all pretend they don't know her, or act like they've never heard the name Barry or never once knew the boy with the crooked smile and sweet-rotten teeth. His apartment is empty; his landlord won't return her calls. And that's when all of Polly's insecurities catch up with her. (Barry, you fuck, couldn't you have said bye?)
They haven't got much time left on the clock, but neither of them know that. (Three months, twelve days.) He bats and she bites, teeth snapping on thin air. ]
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They haven't got much time left on the clock, but neither of them know that. (Three months, twelve days.) He bats and she bites, teeth snapping on thin air. ]
G'home an' yank to it. Y've got better chances.