TAXING.


Photo | Urban 75 Series

$2.75 was a luxury that I couldn’t afford. An emotional mixture of anxiety and embarrassment bolted through my veins. $2.75 was my ticket home and I had a Negative balance of -14.69.

I proceeded to try my card anyway hoping the universe would be kind. Insufficient funds popped on the screen as I felt my dignity evaporating through my pores. Suddenly, I remember the MetroCard tucked in between miscellaneous business cards in my wallet. Finally, I exhaled. I slipped my MetroCard into reader awaiting access to the subway. DENIED! With My lips caved into my mouth and my eyebrows crept lower making wrinkles on my forehead , I quickly maneuvered through the impatient bodies.

I was back on 23rd street. High stress morphed into a numb state. People and cars shifted shapes until all I could see were complexions , yellow, blue, and reddish brown. The inner soundtrack of my breath masked the lively sounds of 23rd street. Suddenly, the buzz from my phone brought me back to reality. It was an email from chase bank informing me that I received $20 with the message: ” friends do for friends!”

As I got on the semi- crowded subway, I was filled with relief. The guy playing an original song an acoustic guitar didn’t annoy me. Instead, I actively listened. I became aware of numerous positions people held while riding. SENATOR MCCAIN WILL VOTE was printed on a newspaper adjacent to me. Mocha skin with a faint rose tinted cheekbones lingered of floral nodes a strong musk came from a man with blotched peach skin and brown beard.

I was going home. It was the first time in awhile I was grateful for having enough.

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