The Seat

The Seat

She was tired. Pushing the black suitcase took a lot out of her. This was the 12th  week already of getting it from one part of the city to another and yet another. Walking by an apt. building on East 49th, almost 3rd Avenue, she saw a green bench outside an apt. building. She breathed a sigh of relief and put the suitcase next to her. This thing, she thought. I am too good a person to lug it around everywhere. But it has my favorite stuff in it. Just then, an older woman passed by with her little dog. She stopped in front of where the other woman sat. “Excuse me, “she said.” You can’t sit here. This seat is only for the residents and the customers of the coffee shop.” The other woman opened her eyes wide. “Why?” The dog owner repeated what she had said adding: “There have been complaints and the police have been called.” The other woman shook her head. She wanted to say something like: complaints because they see someone tired get a well- deserved few minutes of rest? Isn’t there enough crime in NYC that cops have to pick on harmless women? What’s the use? The dog and the woman walked to a tree up the block; then returned to where the other woman was. “Next time you say something like that to a homeless person, smile.” “I was very polite.” “But you didn’t smile. I like your dog anyway.” She took the suitcase and her purse and left.

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