Shuttle Ava Puser I’m so tired of being everyone’s punching bag, he said. I was too scared to speak up, to say, that’s not appropriate are you crazy what’s wrong with you are you okay, but I couldn’t, didn’t. Just like everyone else. I was scared, because when I stepped off the shuttle, I would be a woman, walking alone. Scared to be recognized another time. People like that make me so angry I wouldn’t be surprised if someone blew their brains out, but no one said anything. I kept quiet in that spent air, and I tried not to look over my shoulder as I walked away, dead grass on the sidewalks where the salt had burned away the snow. I tried not to hurry.
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