I am wearing a white ankle length skirt, full bodied, made of lace. People look at me funny, but I am defiant, I like my look.
I stand at a shop window, look at the house prices. I could become a realtor. I go in to a bar, or maybe it’s an office. The looks are hostile, but I am still defiant, I like my skirt.
A man, black suit, white tie, looks down on me, physically down, puts his pointy black shoe on the tip of my nose. I can introduce you to a realtor, he says.
At a beachside café later, Barbara laughs at me. You cannot wear a white skirt in this season, she says. It’s because of the wind. And what do you have on underneath?!
I think about it, try to come up with a better answer…
Black leggings, I reply.
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