Don't know why it caught my eye in passing. I was walking home with no allowance for diversion in the trajectory I walked. But I stopped. A voice in my head said "There's something over there". My walk home is littered with somethings. But, the edge of this clued my attention into high gear so that each crack in the sidewalk, each pebble and piece of dirt between grass blades became monumental as I crossed over them.
The corner of a white plastic bag, speckled with dirt, peeked out from behind a thick-trunked tree. The bag, partially inflated with air, clung to the contour of what had forced the air to the edge. A set of grey-bluish toes emerged from a foot of the same color. They were attached to an overweight woman.
The sight of her paralyzed me then started my skin burning from the absolute privacy of the moment. I saw her getting up that morning and washing her face, fumbling for the towel, the mechanics of her body working, her heavy steps across the field behind the school.
Her red polyester shorts and navy blue t-shirt folded into themselves, into her body in a fetal position. She faced the tree she chose when she could no longer stand, when the pain the tree had relieved, seized her.