The Valley (11.25.2000)

Mona and Mary lived on the second floor of a former fire station in Fremont, probably a couple of miles away from my apartment, on a block-long street wedged between two main drags that represented, in near-Dickensian fashion, the city’s socioeconomic cleft. In one direction was a chaotic plaza — a convocation of commuters, the rose vendors, and soft-eyed drunks. On the other side was Mowry Street, a living diorama of gorgeous new homes…