The Uniform
Taxis lined the sidewalks ready to take us away. I asked to be brought to the nearest hotel, my limited escape from the world. Reattaching myself to society after being overseas seemed debilitating. Listening to my intuition, I sought to be alone.
A voice we all should listen to more often.
I caught my reflection in the taxi’s window. Starched uniform, with creases that parted the air partnered with ribbons meaningfully placed in deliberate pride. I hadn’t noticed a woman who had been holding the door open.
“Thank you, Mam.” I said, in all formality while exchanging smiles.
“My father wore the same uniform.” she replied.
Freeing her tears
Holding the door
Still.
Writer : Gonzalo Mendez
Twitter/IG — @gfmcreative
