#4

After so many years alone, she hated knowing there were people who now lived upstairs. She hated the way these people made the ceiling creak and their Amazon packages that littered the tiny vestibule. She hated people who were not family. People who did not understand what she was saying when she yelled curses at them in her father’s language. So when she heard one of them coming down the stairs she decided to greet them without any language. She pulled her sweatpants and underwear down just enough so a good three inches of ass crack showed. She leaned her body out the front door and bent her waist over the bannister on the steps down to the sidewalk, pretending she was putting something in the trash bin on the other side of the railing. She felt their burning face as they had to sidestep her fleshy presence to get out the door. She snickered when they mumbled out “good morning, excuse me” in their own father’s tongue, quietly, unsure if she understood. She felt the cool air on her low back and the crowned tops of her buttocks and was pleased to see them shake their head as they walked down the block.