by Sharyn Skeeter
From the novel Dancing with Langston from Green Writers Press
The jerk sat with his fingers tapping on the meter, waiting for his tip.
“Lady! Look, I can’t get the cab through. They got that truck blockin’ the street. You gotta get outta here.”
“Get out here? Are you kidding?”
This wasn’t good for me, but he was right. There was no way into the side street, past the construction truck and parked cars. I had to lug out from the back seat the old blue suitcase and plaid carry-on that I’d brought for Cousin Ella’s clothes. Continue reading