Prey
Omar was talking to two girls in matching sweaters, one red, one blue. There is something so hot about that! Maybe it was the gin, but he was having trouble deciding which one he would bed. Maybe both! Maybe both!
Then, while trying to explain, um, boggle strategy, he burnt Susan with his cigarette.
“Ow.” Susan said, grabbing her arm. She might have heard her skin sizzle.
“Oh shit. Wow, did I get you?”
“Omar, you gotta stop waving those things around,” said Blue Sweater.
“Sorry babe, my bad. Want me to roll you one?” He clumsily reached in his back pocket.
“No thanks.” Susan felt flushed.
“Say…” Red Sweater asked, “what’s your name?”
“Susan.”
“Yeah… Susan. Harrison elementary. Remember me? Julia.”
“Uh… sorry, I never went to Harrison.”
“Yeah, you always wore that Garfield shirt to school. I snatched Ms. Lawson’s candy stash and made you pinky swear not to tell.”
“You’re thinking of somebody else.” Susan began to wonder if people were purposely trying to irritate her. Thus far, she hadn’t let any frustration bubble to the surface. Thus far.
“Yeah, we had some good times.” Her eyelids half-open, her forehead shone with sweat, floating around on her neck as she took a drag on her cigarette. Susan was disgusted. “Looking back, it’s pretty clear Ms. Lawson had some problems. Eye make-up smudged all over her face, clothes all wrinkly and covered in cat hair. And she broke down crying in front of the class like a dozen times. Kids don’t care though. They’ll let anybody teach kids. Anybody.”
“Excuse me, I’ve got to find my friend.” Susan pivoted and walked quickly away.
“Hey well, take it easy,” Omar called after her. “Watch where you’re going.”
Owls search for food at night, coasting far above unsuspecting prey. Pushing through the crowd, Susan felt like prey.
