“YOU BITCH, PUNK ASS HO.”

that was my wonderful greeting this morning, delivered ever so aggressively — each word its own rough punch — courtesy of a man i walked by in the 100 ft from the bart station exit and my office building entrance.

this time, i didn’t say anything.

just kept walking silently, with my head hanging low.

silence half due to being so shaken up and taken aback, half due to boiling, seething rage.