I didn’t remember her. She was about my age, maybe a little younger. I thought I had a pretty good memory for the girls from school, especially the ones who walked down the halls and passed me like I was invisible. I glanced down at the cigarette held by her fingers, then raised my head to meet her gaze. She too looked at it, then flicked it to the pavement.

“Disgusting habit,” she continued, disappointed. “I told myself I’d quit tomorrow, but that was Tuesday.” It was Saturday night. “Well? Was I right? Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen, saving the day?”

“Close. More like Toshirô Mifune.” But she was too close: The Magnificent Seven, adapted from The Seven Samurai. I shook my head incredulously and smiled.

“I don’t even know your name.”

She raised her head in a gesture of forgetfulness, and pulled the hood off of her head, along with the zippered sweatshirt it was attached to. The hood concealed a head of dark brown hair that spilled to the small of her back.

She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s Jackie.”