It was twenty past 4 in the afternoon. The repugnant stench of cigarette smoke hung in the air. It began to snow, so Anita placed her frozen hands in the pockets of her plaid peacoat. She felt a sliver of paper in her left pocket. On that ripped piece of parchment, she’d carefully scribed his name in cursive: Colin. The arch of the C, followed by the round O, the loop of the L, then the I with no dot, & lastly the N, which went full circle around his entire name. He was standing just a few feet from her. Within the pocket, she gripped his name in her hand for courage. Anita glanced up at him, hoping to catch his eyes looking back into hers, but Colin quickly cocked his head away instead. Anita was fluent in body language & he said it all with his silence. Though she stood so close to him, in that moment she felt alone. Without a word & without the slightest flinch, she crumpled his name into her fist. He didn’t know it then, but in her mind it was clear: she was done with his bullshit.

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