Momnesia

Wolf Pack

I'm getting out of my car at a gas station downtown, when my skirt hikes up a couple of inches. Thanks, booty-licious. Of course, a crowd of coverall-clad construction workers/house painters are milling around nearby.

"Woo!" they start. "Yeah! Alright!"

I blush, and consider fleeing. I have to walk past them to get inside the store. Crap... Instead, I put on my mental armor and clip past them in my heels.

"Just livin' the stereotype, huh, guys?" I grin warmly, making eye contact with as many as possible before breezing into the store.

I pay for my gas and Diet Coke, then step outside to run the gauntlet again. I plan on asking them to please tell their mothers hello from me. I pause. I walk. I pass. They are silent.

But as I approach my car, I hear one lone voice from the pack: "Sorry..."

It's very much appreciated.