“I don't want to talk to you, you look sick, and dirty”, she said and a wrinkled hand wiped the ash off the flowers on her lapel. The ash dropped and stained the off-white garment of her trousers.

“You look sick and dirty old lady”, the dark-haired young man replied, promptly. “You look sick and dirty, sitting here in the dark, all alone, smoking”.

“I'm not sick and dirty...” she protested. She paused ever so slightly. “I'm a lady”. Even as I was already far past them, her voice stayed, resonating in the charged atmosphere.

#borrowed #smallstories