Today everyone’s talking. The contractor wants to talk about my shoes. “They’re good for my back,” I tell him. “Usually I slouch.” I drop a shoulder forward to show him, and he taps it with one finger. “Bad habits,” is all he says.
The butcher likes my scarf. “Emergency purchase, the other day when it got cold all the sudden.” He smiles. “That’s the only way to shop.”
Out on the street, a little boy backs up against his mother’s legs and stares at me. “Your hair is red,” he says. He’s terrified.
Municipal Archive 
sometimes shoulders rolled forward are protecting a wounded heart