Walking down Church Street was tough. Even though I was reinventing the garbage bag -- aka the warm winter jacket I have that has a slight sheen and I get a lot of flack for it -- I was still eyes clinched, hands in pockets, scarf knotted twice, against the wind. While walking up to Queen, a lost boy (about 25 I would say) completely dressed in black, frowning with long greasy hair approached me. He dragged his stick legs along the sidewalk. I never usually get approached when walking downtown. Ever. But to make up for all that absence, this one was a definite address.
At around 8:30 am, in the height of morning pedestrial traffic, this guy asks me if I have any change. As it it freezing, and I actually don't have any change, I keep my hands in my pockets and say "no." He stops. Looks me in the face -- indirect eyes, a patchy beard and yes, total meth face. I walk past him in front of MacDonald's,
-- Slut. Selfish cunt. You whore!
Good morning.
