Someone on the street walks up to you. Or maybe you walk up to them. you don’t know what is in their head, what room they just stepped out of, or what space they are preparing to enter. They might want to enter your space, which makes the future of this encounter no less nebulous. You simply do not know what conflict, consummation, or commonplace awaits.

I said  nothing. The scent of this stranger crept toward me, tickling itself and twiddling with the hairs on my arm. She smelled coarse. Earthy. A scant look in her eyes gave way to disregard. Dismissal. She moved on, the sockless flesh of her ankles exposed and terribly tight pants outlining every gripping clench of her undergarments.