“Hey excuse me?” An amber haired bespectacled women bobbed through the crowd, landing onto the sidewalk brushing away dust from her coat. The movement revealed a diamond ring and a pink-palette splashed onto her nails. The moment she gave attention to me, she furrowed her brows and bared her mouth open slightly in surprise. “I’m so sorry, I just really wa…” My voice managed to stammer out yet slowly began to fade as if it went with her, the moment words came out of my mouth, she yelped and ran away. As if acidic spittle was within her reach and she just avoided a face full of life long pain and suffering, yet I took the time to stand there flakes of snows clinging onto my hair and exposed skin, inflaming me in the disgust of the situation. In moments of isolations and despair, in moments in which those who look upon me as an animal that sprouted from the ground of a nuclear experiment. I close my eyes only to see the five letters of the word *Bitch* congregate into a clear, radiant image of her arrogant face, her designer clothes, and the suburban aimlessness in bobbing through the city crowd and looking up at chrome office windows. The way she moved her lips was arrogant and an act of pretentiousness, a mockery of my lack of exquisite black card implanted platinum-gold-stick-it-up-your-ass health insurance