Morning Walk in the Neighborhood
From a half-block away
I noticed a young woman sitting on a cement stoop
in front of a house converted into apartments.
Beside her, two suitcases,
and a large black trash bag
likely full of belongings.
She was moving. Or traveling.
Waiting for a ride.
Her right elbow rested on her right knee,
right jaw rested on her hand,
her head turned away.
Everything about her body language
came down to one word for me:
As I got closer I heard a male voice.
Talk radio, I guessed. It had
the accusatory tone telling of someone
being in the wrong.
Then I saw that the disembodied voice
was a man sitting in the darkened stairwell,
behind her, reciting a list
of all her faults, as he saw them.
She was leaving.
~ Cheryl Unruh
Mr. Narcissist goes to work, does what he does best. It can’t be me so it must be her. She’s worthless if she can’t follow my wishes, my whims. I could make her better if she’d only listen and obey. Poor, poor girl. Obviously, she’ll never amount to much. But, give her a couple of days. She’ll be back. She loves me.