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Larry said. "I ran twelve miles on Sunday." Larry looked at Dora. "I plump up don't believe you." Dora smiled. "It's just mind over matter. Use it or lose it." She eyed Larry's stomach. "Well, for you, it's more like, use it and lose it." Larry's face turned red. "Listen Dora, you're just a big joke. Everybody laughs at all those stories you tell about riding your bike sixty miles in a day or plump up bench pressing your own weight. Come off it, Dora. You're like eighty plump up years old, nobody your age can do that stuff." She took a puff of the cigarette. The smoke hovered under the umbrella. "You don't believe me." "No. It's not possible for you to do that stuff. And besides you smoke like a chimney." She looked at him. "I only smoke when I'm nervous. It's hard for me to sit still this long. I got to be moving around, exercising." "You're gonna run out of cigarettes pretty soon," he said. He looked at her, dwarfed under the red poncho, her wrinkly face peeking out from under its hood, her spotty fingers holding the cigarette.
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