“I don’t even have kids” By Sasha in the Kiva

Thursday August 11, 2016
5 minutes
A facebook post

A regular at a specialty beer restaurant I worked at the summer I was twenty-three, in a pinstripe suit with greying blonde hair, scanned my body leisurely from head to toe like he was examining a pineapple in the produce isle – is this one good enough to eat?

“What’s your background?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Canadian,” In the thick of a lunch rush; I was trying to remember what the table beside them had ordered to drink. I started to walk away and he caught my wrist.

“No sweetheart, what’s your background. Where are your parents from?” My eyes shot to his hand on me, a snakebite shooting up my arm.