|I had shorts on...calm your tits.|
|make up: bare skin (jojo and sunscreen); Wet 'n Wild lip liner in "berry red" and Revlon lip butter in "candy apple"; Maybelline Rocket.|
There had to be about seven or eight pairs; she was removing them from their boxes and stuffing them into a bright, southwestern printed backpack...a little boy, maybe 2 years old, stared back at me from the seat at the front of the shopping cart.
...she looked so young with a face of neat features dressed in toffee and framed in jet black strands; a prototype from south of the boarder. She was too skinny for one to be certain that the boy was hers. He stared with his shiny black eyes and I stared back, unmoved by his charm.
He begins to whine and twist around in the seat...the whining turns to wailing and I realize my earbuds are not working well enough.
I find a seat on the the bus--on the inside because it was going to be packed.
She, her parcels and her squirming son sit next to me...he looks right at me and kicks my leg.
Embarrassed, she pulls him away as he continues to whine and fidget like he's trying to escape.
Everyone was looking as I looked straight on; my face bearing only a hint of irritation behind my glasses.
The bus momentarily halted as a white transient stood at the median and begged for what he could gain easier than myself...people looked away as I kept staring at the anomalous spectacle.
Later we are joined by the collegiate chattel.
A white girl slowly shuffling in the isle paused and noticed the writhing child; she stood over him, beaming down with theatrical sweetness, trying to cheer him up by tickling his belly.
Everyone who walked onto the bus either glanced at the boy in mild contempt or dismissed the visual altogether: of course it's those people with their misbehaving spawn-always.
I stood with the chattel once again, remaining as detached as I was before.
Day 17: Trying to follow through with a new opportunity that has just revealed itself...