A LITTLE POETIC RANT
Personal space.
You know, that barrier between you and me.
That arms length that defines your space from mine.
That place my "aura" resides in.
That place I really don't want to feel you, Mr/s/Miss perfect stranger in.
The space that I have allowed in front of me in the queue so as not to invade the person in front of me.
My space you are now standing in, the space you are now breathing in so that I can not only feel your breath on my neck, but can smell what you've eaten in the last hour.
The space that no matter how hard I try to gain back, by tactical manoevering so as not to invade the person in front of me's space, you insist on getting back into.
I sigh, hoping that the garlic I ate last night will encourage you to move away.
I cough hoping that you think I am contageous.
I cannot muster up a fart.....
Finally, after the person in front of me has moved, I take a giant leap forward in the hopes that you will not follow.
But like a magnet you are drawn to me, you move in, sticking your sweaty arm to mine. I cringe, and vomit just a little in my mouth.
And then, just when I think I will leave my goods at the till and run from you,.... a voice of reason from the little boy behind you.
"Mommy, why is that lady standing so close to that girl, she smells a little like meat"?
The mother grabs her son, trying to find the smallest crack to fit into.
You blush and step back, I smile ... and pay ... and walk away with my groceries, feeling that justice has been served.
September 16, 2008
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