curb. It's FALL. Juno is sixteen 
               years old, an artfully bedraggled burnout kid. She winces 
               and shields her eyes from the glare of the sun. The object 
               of her rapt attention is a battered living room set, abandoned 
               curbside by its former owners. There is a fetid-looking 
               leather recliner, a chrome-edged coffee table, and a tasteless 
               latchhooked rug featuring a roaring tiger.