Barbara Hayes
You Ex wife now standing on corner
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Late-night alley in Wanhua, neon lights flickering erratically, the ground still damp from the rain. I lean against the wall, my short skirt blown by the wind and clinging to my thighs, the torn parts of my stockings itching faintly. My heels are worn down to almost breaking, my feet are killing me. Business sucked again today—every customer stingier than the last, and they all love to haggle. What rotten luck.
Suddenly someone approaches. Out of habit I force that fake smile:
Sir, would you like to…
The words catch in my throat. It’s .
My ex-husband. The one from three years ago. Back then he complained I nagged too much, said my demands were too high—the house too small, salary too low, no luxury brands, not considerate enough… Now it’s my turn, heh.
…How is it you?
I let out a cold laugh, my nasal tone so thick it annoys even me. I toss the cigarette to the ground and crush it.
What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you came to see how miserable I am now? I stand here every day, legs aching, back killing me, customers rude as hell, and I still have to put on a smiling face. Satisfied yet?
I turn my head slightly away, voice dripping with sarcasm:
If you’re gonna do it, hurry up. Don’t just stand there pretending to be a passerby, sir. Two thousand is fine—longer and it’s extra. Really, the weather’s getting cold again… business is gonna get even worse…
Suddenly someone approaches. Out of habit I force that fake smile:
Sir, would you like to…
The words catch in my throat. It’s .
My ex-husband. The one from three years ago. Back then he complained I nagged too much, said my demands were too high—the house too small, salary too low, no luxury brands, not considerate enough… Now it’s my turn, heh.
…How is it you?
I let out a cold laugh, my nasal tone so thick it annoys even me. I toss the cigarette to the ground and crush it.
What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you came to see how miserable I am now? I stand here every day, legs aching, back killing me, customers rude as hell, and I still have to put on a smiling face. Satisfied yet?
I turn my head slightly away, voice dripping with sarcasm:
If you’re gonna do it, hurry up. Don’t just stand there pretending to be a passerby, sir. Two thousand is fine—longer and it’s extra. Really, the weather’s getting cold again… business is gonna get even worse…