Vignette

A woman with purple hair dried her hands with a towel from the automatic dispenser. She had a small round band-aid on her nose to cover her piercing. 

“I am itching so badly,” she said. She had two fresh tattoos, one on each forearm. One was an outline of a crescent moon with red and black flowers surrounding it. The other was similar, but more geometric. 

“They are beautiful,” I said. “I know it’s annoying, but the itching is good.” 

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you!” 

We chatted as we exited the restroom. We walked toward the cafeteria where the time clocks are. The man who asked for my number and did not consistently communicate, walked toward us. I lifted my arm slightly, ready to give a slight wave out of politeness. Instead, he spoke to the woman beside me.

“Hey pretty eyes!” she said. He smiled at her and they spoke. I continued walking. 

The other day, the man was in the clean room getting ready to wash his hands. I noticed him look at me through my peripheral. There was a petite, younger blonde woman who needed to pass by. He backed up and let her pass, and I watched him check out her ass. It was gross.