Tidy

I was waiting for the taxi outside my apartment. I’d packed my lunch and felt ready. Neat and tidy as a teacher must be. My lesson plans were swimming in my head, when she I noticed her. Pushing the modified stroller, she more ambled, than hobbled up the road toward me. Her wet clean clothes were heaped in her dinged metal washpan. Her breasts swung gently under her checked cotton blouse. I smiled at her. But the deep shade of her wide-brimmed hat made it impossible to see if she smiled back, or even saw me.

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