Not Talking to You

I’m not talking to you. Yo, not talking to you.

The way she’s looking at him, the Asian woman, like he’s going to attack her or snatch her purse. He’s fucking sick of it. 

Watch your bag.

She clutches it to her and cringes and he turns away so he doesn’t have to see her face and then shoulders his way to the back as a seat frees up.

Yo, J, I’m so fuckin’ busy, you know. But I got the tickets. 

You wanna meet up when, at three?

You don’t got to give me an explanation, fams. It’s all good. Life. Busy. I’m busy....

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