A paean

She is white, in her late 20s. She is quiet, soft-spoken (I imagine), shy, eminently missable.

I almost missed her.

Her hair is just below her shoulders, blonde, flat. Her complexion is marred by a zit just below her nose.

Her clothes are unremarkable, a tan trenchcoat over a red t-shirt and black leggings. She wears brown suede boots, up almost to her knees.

Her body is barely discernible, presented as a rectangle.

She types, on her iPad, indifferent to all around.

But I can tell, I can feel it in my bones.

She is dirty.


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