Morning Commute

She wears a braid of white low against her back. Outdated jeans ride too high. Her awkward gait is uncomfortable for me. Every day she traverses the highway with a different man, swarming dust of semis distorting their faces. This morning, she has already crossed when I see her squatting unladylike in the littered lot of the liquor store. Rising, she places a cigarette between her triumphant smirk and exhales. Today’s man, who has gone to peek behind the shop’s yellowing walls, gestures “Come.” Her grin falls as she disappears around back. When the light turns green, I move on.

Talk story

  1. cmak15 says:

    I love the tense change at the end from third to first person and how the focus of the story shifts. In terms of particular words, I like "Her grin falls," and "Rising, she places…" Nice job.

  2. BetweenWatersUnseen says:

    ",,, I see her squatting unladylike in the littered lot of the liquor store." The alliteration here is wonderful.

  3. Johanna says:

    I really like the "swarming dust of semis distorting their faces." I think that’s a great line! And I love the ending as well. Very subtle, yet powerful. Well done.

  4. 4Him says:

    Very Bob Dylan-esque Marie. I see this being one of his songs…big compliment :o) I like the simple line of "Today’s man" – it tells us so much!


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