100 Word Story: Who You Meet at the Street Protest (FICTION)

The car swerved toward her. The driver jammed on the brakes. She stepped back waiting for him to leap out of the car and berate her for holding a sign defending free speech. He slammed the door hard, rushed over to her, she moved back, afraid of getting spit on (which happened before) or worse.

He yelled, “You don’t know what I went through to get here!” She nodded okay, okay, I don’t know. “It was a fucking living hell there.” She figured he was talking about Vietnam. He was old enough. “Here. Take your damn licorice. Eat it all.”

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