A finger tapped on my shoulder. Standing beside me is a woman waiting for a bus. She looked down and said my shoelaces are off.
The way she said it, soft and stern. She sent off the scent of jasmine and vanilla, and I knew it was Chanel No.5. I glanced at her one more time and she smiled. The wrinkles on her under-eyes brought me back to something, so I glanced at her once again.
She said do I want to taste her handmade sandwich, I said sure. She said she put avocado in it and if I don’t like it that’s understandable. I said I do like avocado. Actually, I don’t.
Her bus arrived. Farewell she bid as she complimented my short hair.
I was surprised by my own reply, “Thanks, mom.”