at it again, the single sentence.
Discipline?
I stil didn't get it. I tucked the card back into its envelope,
restraining myself from sniffing the ink. I wasn't the only
person standing at the mailboxes, and I didn't want to
attract that sort of attention. I found the mailbox for 114
and studied it, too. The brass numbers were stylishly
weathered but not worn. There wasn't realy any mistaking
a one for a four or vice versa, even if the number on the
card itself were smudged.
'Excuse me.' The woman next to me gave me a smile
meant to look apologetic but only looked annoyed. 'I need
to get to my box.'
'Oh. Sorry.' I folded closed the note and tucked it quickly into the slot for 114, wondering if by some luck it
into the slot for 114, wondering if by some luck it
belonged to her.
She used her key to open a different box, though, and
puled out a thick sheaf of mail. Then she bent and looked
through the hole to the office behind it, but the mail carrier
had already moved down the row to the end. She
straightened as she closed and locked her box, then riffled
through her mail with a disgusted sniff.
'Nothing ever comes when it's supposed to.' She didn't
say it to me, but I nodded anyway.
'I wish my bils wouldn't come.'
She turned and gave me an up-and-down look as her
mouth twitched into a grimace masquerading as another
smile. Her gaze took in my coat, the same cut and color as
hers but not as nice, my legs, clad in nude hose, and finaly
settled on my shoes. They were the only part of me that
seemed worth her approval, but she raised a brow anyway
and just tossed off a fake little laugh as she stuffed her mail
into her Kate Spade bag and turned on her matching
pumps.
Bitch.
Bitch.
Oh, I knew what discipline meant to me, al right.
Discipline was what kept me from popping her in the back
of the head with the heel of my barely-passing-inspection
shoes. It's what kept my chin high and my mouth fixed in a
pleasant smile instead of turning down at the corners so the
tears would stay burning behind my eyes instead of
slipping out.
Discipline, or maybe it was pride. Or stubbornness.
Whatever it was, I had enough to spare.
I waited until she'd gone before I crossed the lobby and
pushed through the revolving door. Outside, gray and
overcast skies echoed my mood, and the breeze brought
the scent of cigarettes to me. I looked automaticaly,
