There’s only one allowed in at a time. She switches her enormous weight onto the other leg. The man in front of her moves up half an inch, making room- not wanting to be close. This can be passed off as polite but she knows the real reason. The anger swells in her massive belly. She grits her lips together, afraid of what spite may spew out if she opened it. A young couple joins the queue. She’s fat, they’re thinking. And gross. No one wants to stand too close. Obesity is contagious. The sweating begins. This happens in crowds.
The man in front stares silently, still, at the back of the head in front of him. The couple is engrossed in their chatty dialogue. But they are staring at her, inside they stare at her. They’re thankful they don’t look like her. The anger inside builds to rage. Why do they all glare with their minds? Why can’t they just accept her and let her be? Why must she teach the world how to behave appropriately in social situations such as this? The rage travels to her throat. She wants to scream at all of them. Close her eyes and let her tongue swing with fury. “Next.” A voice from the room. The crowd moves up a place. She notices the inches in between her and the others in line. More inches than should be.