Undone

A young woman waits on the corner for the signal to change. She is wearing a summer dress. It is white with thin straps and a blue ribbon that cinches the dress around her waist. On the left strap of the dress is a cloth pin in the shape of a small red bird. The young woman considers the bird to be what makes the dress.

Her pride in the dress shows as she waits on the corner. She stands straight, her right foot set a full stride ahead of her left; she is in a pose indicating strength and motion. Her right palm rests against the light post, her fingers arched slightly. Only the tips touch the pole.

A businessman walks up behind her. He is on a cell phone and speaking loudly. The man's voice is everywhere, invasive, like a brisk wind mussing her hair. She steps closer to the edge of the curb and away from the man, keeping the small bird on her dress as visible as possible. More people gather around her at the corner; a small boy and his mother and a group of middle aged women. They are all talking, all fighting for attention of a petty sort. The young woman edges even closer to the curb.
The signal changes. The traffic stops. The young woman looks over the stopped drivers and their cars. The gazes vary, but each seem boredom and disinterested. The young woman imagines herself crossing the street and the wonderment her presence will incite. Look at that lovely young woman, she imagines them saying. And that dress; it was made for her and she for it. She looks as delicate as that bird on her dress, that little one just below her shoulder. Yes, yes, she and that bird are really something.

The young woman steps out onto the street, making sure to walk well ahead of the crowd behind her. Her sandals slap hard against the asphalt with every step. She looks straight ahead to the light post on the other side of the street. That is her exit, her departure from the world of onlookers. She will be gone and they will scarcely remember what they saw. And in this way she will give them something special; in this way she will be adored. She will be the girl who, if nothing else, had a beautiful bird on her dress.

The young woman reaches the other corner and steps up onto the curb. She resists looking back at those she has passed. The young woman presses the dress against her body, flattening any fabric that may have become crumpled in the walk across the street. She does not feel her pin as she smooths out her skirt. She looks down and it is not there. It must have fallen off as she crossed the street. She looks back, but does not see it. The bird is gone. The young woman begins to cry and runs down the block. She will have to face the next corner looking plain; plain and alone.