May 30, 2007
They pleaded, the four of them, “If you have any room in your car, please? Please?” One coworker grinned, smoke curling from his face, “Shouldn’t have parked at the restaurant.” My other coworker shrugged and flicked ash from his smoke. I waved at my coworkers and slunk away, feeling mildly guilty. The street became metaphor. My path to the north, theirs to the east and my coworkers’ slow pace to the bar around the corner. Divided in lifestyle, divided in class, paths forked, their shameless plea, my hunkered speeding away. The way they hunched at the bus stop, feeling denied.