Girls at Home Depot or Men’s Land 

  I turned into the parking lot, making my brakes screech. My small Toyota listened and left a trail of smoke before settling down one inch from the curb. I was glad I avoided some carts left in various parking spaces and the one settled in the middle of the road. When individuals are in a hurry, they can’t take care of little things, duh! 

Came out of the car and puffed up my chest under the jacket. It was an involuntary move, just the way I used to do when I was 13 and tried to pass as boyish as I could. Men were respected.

I pushed on a side the cart that was blocking the road and took a deep breath. It was such a breath of freedom and some smoke from a cigarette a pall was smoking in his car. 

I was glad I wore jeans. Hands in pockets and I rose my shoulders. It was a handsome feeling of being important. 
This fella driving a truck cut my way to the sidewalk, but it was all right. He had to do what he had to do. A pick-up truck came from nowhere, randomly crossing a few lines of the parking spots and I greeted him, nodding my head. I bet he could tell I understood him. The guy had to get quicker on the main road, and yes, he had to cut in front of this poor Voltswagen. Who drives a Voltswagen in the men’s land?

Confident and driven, I hopped on the sidewalk, passed the area with the BBQs on sale, and stopped right before getting in the store. The pansies in the pots were in bloom. 


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