Angelina tucked her arm into her mother's and her mother pulled her out of the way of a woman on a bicycle. "Mom," Angelina said, turning to look, "that woman is your age, and she's smoking, and she has her pearls tossed over her neck, and she's wearing high heels, and she's pedaling her bike with a basket of stuff in the back."
"Oh, I know, honey. It just amazed me when I came here. Then I figured it out—the women are just versions of people pulling up to Walmart in their cars. Only they're on a bike."