How Dare You!

How Dare you!

A green army like jacket, jeans with a hole in the left knee, tan and red sneakers, no socks.

What time is it? The other woman held a cell phone in her hand. I don’t have the time, she said. The older woman knew that she didn’t look good—or very respectable. This young woman must think that instead of the time I want money.

I am tired, she said to herself in a low voice as they waited for the light to change.You don’t know me, she told the back of the young  woman and then walked away.

I don’t want people to think—I don’t want anybody—to look down on me. I don’t deserve it. I shouldn’t have taken her  attitude personally, but I had to. I had money and now I don’t. Now I am lucky if I can save a penny here, a dime there. It’s what I can do, not what I want to do. I walk down the street and people look at me funny—a skinny woman down on her luck. I didn’t use to, but I see people carrying shopping bags with Coach, Burberry and Tiffany & Co written on them and I feel envy. I shopped those stores.If I could buy there again, I would. I can’t, but that doesn’t make me less than anybody.

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