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.