Blonde Coffee

Short black skirt, sheer tights, heels that thump against the concrete like horse hooves over the Earth. Her crinkled bag over her shoulder is tucked deeply into the pit of her arm, careful to keep it concealed from potential purse snatchers, holds her styrofoam coffee container high as if she was the important one. Sure to leave red lipstick stains around what got her to her lofty position. She doesn’t know that I know all. I smirk as she bounces by.

©privatethoughtsmadepublic. 2017.

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