you look like me on sunday

"love is suicide! love is suicide! love is suicide!" billy screamed at me as i trudged up the semi-slope to the library.

i was on a quest to find an ethnography, which i must read and write a six page paper on.

"humph." i said, probably out loud because of my walkman. "anthropology is suicide."

god punished me for thinking this at that exact moment by sending a gust of wind stong enough to blow my skirt up past any line of decencey. and of course, there were people huddled around, pointing, staring and laughing.

"ha!" i thought. "trick's on you!"

i was wearing my leggings.