Silver Rings

“Can I have one of those rings?”

She is referring to the silver rings on my hand. I purchased them during my association with Tara at her kiosk in a mall in another country.

“Sorry, these rings have sentimental value. Do you usually ask strangers for their belongings?”

“Where do you work?”

She is standing very close to me. I can smell the rancid products, mixed with perspiration, in her short not recently washed hair. 

The top of her petit head reaches no higher than my upper chest. She is wearing a dark-colored tight fitting tee shirt that exposes her midriff, multiple bangles, rubber bands, charms and other trinkets wrapped around her wrists, and a studded belt through the loops of close fitting low rise jeans which bear many tears due to fashion or circumstance. I gesture to the attic, the place that I work.

“Can I see?”

I think for a moment; she isn’t large enough to assault me, and I have a female coworker in the studio with me, so it is unlikely that she can falsely accuse me of assaulting her.

“Sure. Why not?” I lead the way… 

Silver Rings

...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s