its the numerous measly smiles that got me.

maybe it was the way i struggled.

maybe it was the way i couldn't hold the broken portfolio, the filled bag on the other, all the while bundled up.

normally no one would look at me.

but as soon as I entered the bus it was as if they looked at the black abyss in my hands, then looked at my eyes and gave that sorrowful look.

the floor was wet.

my feet where wet.

the dark black started tearing within its creases.

i held it close by and even moving it made others look at me and give me that smile.

even if they didn't notice because I was sitting, they noticed when I stood up.

Held that black wall to my chest.

maybe it was the way I held it.

I held it like it was heavy.

I held it as if it were a dinosaur baby.

I held it like i didn't know how to hold it.

how do you hold a carrier that has broken handles.

whatever it was, those smiles made me feel self conscious.

and i was rained on all the ways there and back.