August 10, 2011
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Rosa sat still. Her back, now hours after seating herself, ached from wearing waiting. The empty counter cooled her chocolate arms, mocking the sweet success that lingered behind the thick barrier. Similar statues lined the bar, their d*mned breath infecting the Southern grub. The huffing and puffing from the miss drew a thick smoke that slithered into her lungs. She sat still. Glares from every direction punctured the newly planted roots of hope in her soul.
Sounds raged from behind the musky window, causing her to turn sharply at the outcries of turmoil. A wave of water smashed into one of the protesting bodies, arousing the crowd with urgent screams. The “protectors” missed with their second jet, which quickly tore off the bark a familiar oak tree.
Rosa remembered that tree. She remembered swinging back and forth on its sturdy branches as a young girl. The branches were so strong that she would never think of them breaking, allowing her to get hurt, allowing her to fall. The violent stream tore the bark clean off with immense ease, revealing its vulnerable interior. She looked back down at her empty plate and sighed. Freedom ain’t cheap- she’ll decay in time. Still determined, still waiting.

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