IT WAS A Saturday morning. Which

meant: it was a "me" day. One day a

week I dedicated to spoil myself. But

just for one day a week, because I

always felt bad and guilty when I

bought or treated myself too much. I

had already bid Aunt Jodie farewell,

who was eating a bowl of oatmeal and

sipping on some juice, still half-asleep.

I quickly hopped down the steps,

attempting to hurry past Mr. Gradger

during his morning routine of taking

out the trash. But, the odds were not in

my favor today.

"Goodmornin' Desty!" Mr. Gradger

beamed at me, appearing suddenly

behind a corner as if he was waiting

for me to come.

"Goodmorning." I tried to smile, but I

felt the awkward tilt in my cheeks and

returned to my normal resting face,

passing by quickly.

It was rainy out

As usual.

I lived in an peculiar part of Miami,

where it rains all the time, but if you

travel about a mile from our little

home town in Miami, the sun was out.

Almost as if walking into another

dimension.

I was dressed in a maroon blazer, a

grey hoodie underneath, black

leggings, and old-looking black combat

boots.

Aunt Jodie always commented how old

they were, the sides peeling a bit; the

leather drying up. The shoe laces were

splintered and ready to snap on a

single hard pull.

But to me, they were special.

Yes, they were ugly in some ways.

But I wasn't going to get rid of them

anytime soon.

I had my hair up, as usual, in a high

bun, held together by a hair donut.

I probably looked homeless and

fashionable at the same time.

But I didn't really care.

I dressed they way I pleased.

I smelled like soap.

But not the kind of soap that gives off a

lavender smell or makes you smell like

strawberries.

Nope.

Just plain old, plain smelling soap.

Old-fashioned, and bitter scented.

I walked about one extra mile before

coming to a bus stop. The sun was

peeking out from the clouds, as if shy to

reveal itself. But in minutes, it showed

itself and radiated confidently.

Once the bus came, I got on quickly and

sat down in the very back. Not only for

the reason that I sat in the back to avoid

people, but also because it was more

bumpy in the back and it was fun.

Wow, Destiny! You think something is

fun?!

Is what my dad once said one time

when we rode the bus together.

Of course, he was joking then.

But you know when you're joking but

it's true yet you still say just kidding! but

it's not a joke.

Yeah.

But I wasn't a robot.

I did enjoy some things.

But only I knew what they were.

I got off in just a few minutes of riding,

payed the bus driver, and headed off

into the busy streets.

I didn't really know what I was

planning for myself today. But I decided

to just play it by eye.

. . .

"I want the purple one!"

I looked over, and saw an Asian couple

in a candy store, looking at the choices

of cotton candy flavors displayed above

them.

The girl got her cotton candy, then

looked up to her boyfriend.

"This is blue... I wanted purple!"

"P-Purple? I thought you said pink..." He

blushed and scratched the back of his

neck.

"Pink? You said blue!" Said the seller,

and they all looked at each other,

dumbfounded.

To my right, an elderly couple were

arguing to each other, an

uncomfortable looking merchant

before them.

"Sir, Miss, are you going to buy anythi-"

"Would you please-!" Said the elderly

woman impatiently, turning back to her

husband.

"Now, Ronald, you told me that you

didn't have Martha in your book club!"

"That was before she joined, Perry!"

I passed by them, glancing at the

merchant who didn't look

uncomfortable anymore, but now

interested in the elderly couples

conversation.

I walked into a jewelry store. The store

wasn't all that packed, but a few quiet

customers roamed in and out.

However, there was one customer that

stayed in the same place for the time I

was looking around.

I glancing over, wondering if they were

deliberously debating on a piece of

jewelry, but they weren't.

They were just leaning against the wall.

Arms crossed.

Hood up.

I turned my back.

Maybe he's just waiting for someone.

At least, that's what I thought.

Until he followed me out.

Was he waiting for me?

No. Why would he?

I kept walking down the street. And he

kept following me.

Soon, I began to feel uneasy. So, I tried

to lose him.

I turned down alley ways, tried to lose

him in shops, turned sudden corners,

but he followed me as if we were

attached by a long string.

I didn't want to approach him,

however, hoping that he would lose

interest in following me everywhere.

But he didn't.

And it was starting to become dark.

Time had passed so quickly that I didn't

even get to pleasure myself with at least

one shopping bag on my arm.

Finally, I decided to sit down on a

bench. If he really was following me

then he would have no choice to keep

going down the street, since he

wouldn't want to be obviously caught.

But instead, he sat right down next to

me, and pulled out a newspaper,

shielding his face with it and

pretending to read.

Crap.

How was I going to get back home

with this guy following me? No way

do I want him knowing where I live.

I couldn't stay anywhere in the city, I

didn't have enough money to rent a

hotel room. Perhaps if I stay right here,

he would eventually move on. He

wouldn't try to do anything right out in

the public's view, right?

So I stayed put.

And so did he.