this morning #176.

this morning, a cigarette dangled from the edge of her mouth as she walked down the sidewalk slumped over, a dirty tote bag dragging at her side. this walk to the grocery store wasn’t as much of a challenge as it appeared to be to the random passerby. since the stroke, other than the acute inability to stand upright & the obtuse way strangers stared at her, she was the same damn person, a middle-aged woman who lived by herself & kept to herself. the same damn marlboros & morning walks. cop shows & crosswords. pointing out sad typoes on storefront signage. she had been this way for years. nobody saw it then. they definitely didn’t now.