Hey girl, turn around! Oh…come on baby, don’t walk away, you know you love it.”

The girl tries to hold her skirt down and keeps a brisk pace down the sidewalk, she will not turn her head. She grips a shiny, black keychain tightly in her hand. She lifts the keychain up to reassure herself and reads the word mace on the side; she sighs. The girl finally arrives at her apartment, shakily reaches into her bag and grabs her key. She turns her head after each step, hoping he will not appear behind her. On the third floor she enters her apartment and sets her purse down on the counter. The girl slowly falls onto her couch and looks up at the fan. She begins to study her day– each minute and every move. The girl reflects on what happened ten minutes beforehand. Is this skirt too short? Maybe I should throw it out…She recalls his exact words, “Oh…come on baby, don’t walk away, you know you love it.” Why does he think I like that? Did I lead him on? After lying down for a few minutes the girl stands and saunters over to the kitchen. She pulls down her blue silk skirt, gazes at it, and tosses it in the trash.

Xandi McMahon ’17