Well dressed, young, with an attitude higher than Mount Everest she sat at the cafe chatting on her cell phone while sizing up the man in front of her.
When her drink arrived she disregarded the server, then in a flash she called him back… "A straw – " she claimed as if it were he prize. And when he returned, she pointed to her drink, he placed the straw inside and nodded as if to say, "Sorry." Pretty Woman seem to command certain men with her angry charm. As soon as he turned his back she pulled the straw from her drink and tossed it to the ground. Had his hand touched to closely to the mouth piece?
As I sat with the sun on my back I thought about Pretty Woman: How strange she was to claim a touched straw disgusting yet not find the cigarette dangling from her mouth worse. It must be that her stilettos keep her above the trash she throws carelessly underneath her. We live in different worlds: I walk upon her straws, my lungs breath in her second hand smoke and my heart judges her unmercifully.
Nobody is perfect.
The straw bearer, the thrower of straws, nor the straw calculator.
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