People have me all wrong. They have their projections about me but they don’t know me.
I let a finger trail over his jeans as I moved past him at the crosswalk. They think, this person is abrasive or too aggressive or too confrontational but really I just tell it like it is. I was around 12th and Chestnut and walking back home after stopping at Capogiro, as was my normal routine at the time.

“I’ll take banana,” I said.

The person working the counter was an unkempt young boy. No time for games.I had finished the sorbet long ago and needed to get home. I have writing to do, I thought but truthfully, the weed had worn off and I was tiring off my playlist.

“I better get home,” I said out loud, standing abruptly and ignoring the group of men in the corner who had been staring at me.

I love walking–for miles. I turn the headphones up. Someone bought me these noise cancelling headphones and now I can block out the most mundane of sounds and play my favorite songs on repeat.  This playlist was called The Gauntlet and it reminded me of a movie. A lot of post metal and instrumental and I loved this song, Mladic.

“I love this song,” I mumbled out loud turning my noise cancelling headphones up and I didn’t even feel the guy try to grab my bookbag as I stepped off the curb towards the giant red hand.

I did see the bus though. The last thing I heard was the horn; not the violent crescendo I wanted but the violent crescendo I deserved.

“The Woman Who Saw Her Own Death–The Woman Who Walked for Miles”

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