See on the Red Line to Howard at about 11:50 a.m.
I narrow my eyes and glare at the people on the train. When I do this, most of them stop looking at me. But some still dare. That is why I take other precautions. I wear these black, baggy clothes so that they cannot see my body. I cover my fingers in rings so that nobody will take my hand. I keep my curly hair cropped short so that nobody will run their fingers through it. I fill my thick lips with metal so that nobody will kiss them. I armor myself, and I am safe. Nobody can touch me.
I wrote this story on my way to Metropolis Coffee (if you haven't been there, you definitely should) to meet my friend Beckah, an aspiring comic writer and all-around awesome person, for what we designated a "work party." Both she and I have some other writing projects we have to do, so we figured we'd do it together in a wonderful place with delicious drinks and food. We mostly just talked the whole time, though. I think it was more party than work.
Anyway, I am really excited about this story, because it is ACCIDENTALLY exactly one-hundred words long. How cool is that? When I pointed this out to Beckah, she informed me that a story of exactly one-hundred words is called a "drabble," which I never knew. And there, my friends, is your vocabulary lesson for the day.