THIS IS A 100 WORDS CONTEST ENTRY
Morning Commute
Published by MARIE KAUFMAN | Thursday, July 29, 2010 4:49 AM
BR 100 Word Contest
She wears a braid of white low against her back. Outdated jeans ride too high. Her awkward gait is uncomfortable for me. Every day she traverses the highway with a different man, swarming dust of semis distorting their faces. This morning, she has already crossed when I see her squatting unladylike in the littered lot of the liquor store. Rising, she places a cigarette between her triumphant smirk and exhales. Today’s man, who has gone to peek behind the shop’s yellowing walls, gestures “Come.” Her grin falls as she disappears around back. When the light turns green, I move on.