That guy didn’t look at me.

No, no, you don’t understand. They always look. Doesn’t matter if I’m in a baggy sweatshirt with curlers in my hair. They look.

Until I glare at them. Or tell them where to go. And even then sometimes, they’ll just laugh like it’s a big joke. And then go right on staring, getting themselves an eyeful.

Oh, it’s not like I let ‘em get away with it. Don’t think that. But the point is, I’m the one who tells them to quit it. I’m the one who calls time out.

Not them. Never them......