by Lesley Pink
Sherri wore purple, a deep purple top which hung loosely over her belly and light purple pants that stopped just above her ankles. With one hand, she hung on to the pole, noticing the glances in her direction, glances that weren't supposed to be noticed by her, glances that were telling her, "Hey, you're too big to wear all that purple." She stared at the ads above the seats: 1-800-IMMIGRATION, Fix Your Bunions Now Without Surgery, Catch Everybody Loves Raymond at 7PM. Sherri noticed a young couple, no more than 25 or so, whispering to each other, when the woman chucked her thumb in Sherri's direction. The man started to laugh, his eyes fixed on Sherri. She adjusted her necklace (it was purple, too), smoothed her hair back, walked right up to them and said, in as polite a voice as possible, "You'll both be dead in a week's time."
Lesley Pink, whose full catalog is here, lives in Forest Hills, New York.