The texture of their voices

This is a cute picture of Erica. It has nothing to do with the following writing I did on October 23rd:

At the East Bay Writers’ Room, on the back patio, at a table with Nina. There’s a conversation going on out on the sidewalk. I can’t see the people. A woman saying she needs to get into an RV to get her stuff, but it’s locked. I hear the word “jewelry”. A guy says something about Costco. The texture of their voices is rough. From a life of struggle and hardship, I imagine, but that’s speculation. Then I hear a door opening. And the voices get quieter. Did the owner come back? I can picture them entering the RV, the woman going to a drawer or cabinet where she thinks the jewelry will be, but it’s not there. Accusations. An argument. Maybe things get violent. I stand up and go to the fence so I can see. A minute later a woman steps out of the RV with a small wooden box. She calls back “Thank you”. She smiles as she walks away.