No Credit
She had a manly visage, which would have been fine had she only been born a
male. As it was her face had been her nemesis since boys began to notice
girls. They noticed her too, but not like the others... no. Not like the others.
She shifted the wrecker down through the gears as she approached the light.
Damned thing stayed red. The brakes screamed a protest at being asked to stop
the behemoth, but they did their job. Joan looked around the sleazy neighborhood
while she waited for the light.
“Hey! Joan!” A mean looking biker with facial scars and no shirt under his
colors scowled and flipped her the bird.
“Hey! Skuzbucket!” She returned the salute with interest, using both hands.
Then both of them laughed.
The light changed and Joan went through three gears before she got across the
street. Several of the street’s denizens heard her coming and looked up from
what they were doing or who they were mugging to smile and flip a hand in her
direction. She shook her head and waved at them, wagging an admonitory finger at
the mugger who grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
The locked gates of her yard were directly ahead at the T intersection. The
gates were shiny and new because about once a month some drunk would forget to
turn and plow through them. Then she had to call the insurance company and get
another set installed. The fence company kept three sets in inventory just for
her and could put a new gate up in about an hour. Today, the gates were still
there, the huge iron padlock hanging from its chain. She pulled up and,
setting the brake, dismounted from the cab to unlock and open them.
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