Like today, on my way to work a man abruptly pushed in front of me, the type of man who swings his briefcase as if claiming a protective bubble of CBD space and grunts when he walks, like air is burning his nose, or each step is one step closer to an inevitable death, the death of his joy, death of fun, death of his soul.
So as this man practically sends me head on into a bin I boldly announce, "You're walking on me!"
But maybe announce isn't the right word. I didn't bark at him nor spit my words, but I did speak with an element of disgust in my voice, disgust coupled with shock, as if someone would dare do that. Who is he? (Who am I?)
Strangely, no reaction from the man, no looks of horror from on-lookers as if say how bold rude of that 'young up-start' woman...
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