There’s a woman with scraggly hair, very thin, very wobbly on her feet, she always leans a little- life beaten.

On her good days she carries her bright purse, contents toppling as she sways and moves about a lot- we give her a wide berth.

On her bad days she moves less, but yells more at the passers by- the berth we give is wider then.

She always wears a summer dress with thin straps- In winter I think she must be cold. In summer I wonder about sunscreen.

The other day I saw her at the supermarket buying groceries. I had never seen her in there before, such a normal environment. I felt a little proud of her. I thought I probably wasn’t supposed to feel that way so I looked away instead of smiling.-Then I felt awkward for not smiling and left quickly.

Today I saw her again teetering on her feet and yelling and I wondered where it was that she stored those groceries.

I tried not to stare and then felt ashamed for turning away.

So preoccupied, I’ve been with invading another’s privacy.