Raging

            She walked down to the corner store to fetch some milk, if that’s what they’re calling it now. I think it is.  Her little dress flapped a bit too much in the wind, but she didn’t mind.  Dresses and indecent exposure weren’t what concerned her at the time.  Maybe she should have worn underwear, but there was no time for that piddly shit, now, was there?

            She got to the store, smoothed her dress, and walked in. The looks always came in an avalanche, but she had found ways to be ok with that. One of those ways was to not pay attention to them.  The itching made that method the easiest now. Fucking itching, everywhere. It would end soon. She just had to wait a few minutes. In the back of the store, there was the unisex bathroom that no one had cleaned since World War II, but it was as good a meeting spot as ever. She stepped inside and waited.

            She just had to wait a few minutes. Then it would stop.

            It took a bit longer than she remembered last time, but soon enough the guy walked into the stall. They nodded swiftly to each other, and she sighed.  She searched for pockets, frantically yet quietly. Her dress didn’t have any pockets. But where the hell was the money, then? Silently distraught, she brought her hands to her head. The crinkling of bills was heard at the same time, reminding her that she had been holding the money the whole time. Damned brains forget everything sometimes.

            She gave him the money; he gave her the pills. Everyone was happy.  No one outside would expect anything but sex in this bathroom, which was more legal than this, so they didn’t mind.  The water faucet worked, and with its help, she downed a few of her newly bought friends right there. He walked out, and she stayed.

            She just had to wait a few minutes. She left, then, feeling better.