character

“F*ck Valentine’s Day, Happy Chinese New Year” was the reddest sign in the hostel. A lady clad in bubbly thick black winter jacket sat down near a wide window. She sipped the tea out of the white cup. I drank their tea and it was all water, no bold flavor in that pity cup. But, she drank it well maybe because she put some sugar in it. She held a note and a pen, her hair was frizzy, ugly dirty blond updo-ed with black elastic. She looked at me and jotted something down. I glared at her, ‘Lady, what are you doing? Are you describing me and making a character out of me in your horrendous note?’ It was snowing outside and yes, people were attracted to put some black on their white. But, you don’t describe me lady, not with that curious eyes. I am not a character unless I grant you permission. I slurped what’s left in my cereal, made a bit of sound with the bowl and wooden table, and then gave her a hate stare.