She stalked the u-turn under the 610 south overpass waving faintly with a look that said she knew it was too much to ask for-money-but at the same time knowing she had no other choice.
Her tan showed the toll of the extreme weather, but the stiff, bright white shocks of hair punctuated the pain of her existence. I couldn’t stop, so I made my left turn and caught her eyes for a blip and I hoped they at least relayed empathy. This world is harsh for most people, but that thought is privileged and hollow in the cool of my air-conditioned car. As I push on, she recedes in my rear view mirror, but I manage to see someone stop and hand her a box of food out their window.
© 2023 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.
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