by Jean Airey
hat was too large and the shoes too small. The dress had been on sale
at the Outlet for 90% off plus her Monday discount.
legs felt strange, loose fabric flapping around them. But she would
do. The colors were right. That was the main thing.
seen them on the street, laughing. Groups. Watching as she sat on a
bench – not long on one, moving to another, watching them order
food at the outside tables. They'd chatter and giggle and only eat
half of it. Waiting for them to leave. Then a quick walk by. Just a
bite of this or that. She didn't eat much.
there were large groups of them. A big party. She could stand up,
walk with them. Just a little behind, though. A smile, a question –
she would run. It had been too long.
was for the old cat who needed special food. She could eat anything,
but he depended on her. She'd never let anyone down. Ever. All the
years and the jobs that didn't need someone who could read or write.
A hard worker, they'd say. Always the first to be let go.
the corner she turned and walked toward the bank. The small revolver
hung heavy in the dress pocket. It wasn't loaded. Maybe next time.