So I'm on my way to work on Monday, back to answering telephones and writing ideas and planning my future. I'm on Jefferson, about to cross Figueroa, when I see a girl driving a white Volvo behind me. She can't be more than my age. And she's crying. Her eyes are red, her lips are red, matching the color of her hair. And she's either speaking into a handsfree phone or she's repeating something over and over to herself. It's a sad sight. I continue on to work. She follows behind me until I turn onto Hope St.
What would make somebody cry like that on a Monday morning?
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