The street vendor

On a modestly busy sidewalk, a man sits behind a table. On display are domestic things. Kettles, vases, jewelry, and clothes. All of it for sale. The man looks at his phone, facetiming with a cousin, occasionally looking up to see if anyone is interested in what he’s selling. A young college girl stops to look at what he’s selling. She studies his wares for a minute. The girl grabs a small red velvet box and opens it. “How much,” she asks.

Across the street, a woman turns the corner and looks indignantly at the girl. Seething, she crosses the street and rushes over.

The man replies to the girl: “Two-hundred . But you can have it for one-”

The woman intervenes. “That’s not for sale.” She snatches the box from the college girl’s hands. The girl is taken aback.

The man sucks his teeth. “I told you not to come back here.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The angry woman pulls out a golden band with a small diamond rock encrusted at the top. “This is my wedding ring. My wedding ring. You believe this shit?”

“Can you leave? Can’t you see you’re scaring her.”

“I’m not talking to your trifling ass.”

“Give that back, and get out of here.”

He grabs her arm, trying to take the box away from her. She slaps his face and throws the table sideways across the street, everything they once shared now discarded across the street. People are looking at them. They’re making a scene in front of the taco place.

The college girl steps away, she crouches down to grab the box with the ring and walks away. Neither of the two seem to notice her as she leaves without paying. Their fighting persists.