Wild:

Just had a woman insult me without cause. She came up to check out and studied me carefully, the disapproval written on her face as clear as glass.

Her: Do you sew?

Me (smiling, foolishly assuming she's complimenting my hat): No, no ma'am! Sharp things and I don't get along! (I laugh politely) I just like things like that.

Her (frown deepening): So you just like wearing inappropriate clothing.

Me (smile barely wavering, putting on my best professional face): Ma'am?

Her: You're always wearing inappropriate clothing. Every time I'm here.

Me: Well, I consider this clothing quite appropriate, madam. Then, I just came from New Orleans, so....

I let my sentence trail off purposefully, giving her a look that could've rattled bones. My smile is ridged in ice, and she knows it. She leans back from the counter instinctively, before she can process it.

We ended up having a nice conversation about the Bayou, the restaurant and bar where I go to read poetry and (as of today, when I realized what they had) eat the food. Her politeness, perhaps as an armor against my fury, rises ten fold. She laughs, but her eyes are distant and her movements skittish.

I come today with a memory of happiness inside my heart, woman. Do not ye challenge me.