I choose to freeze my dark eyes in the reflection of a parked car. My sarong is black with beige sunbursts, my shirt the color of the sunbursts with a wide scoop for a collar. I'm not beautiful, but I'll pass.
At the junction I wait, my back slouched a slight angle. A motorcyclist waits at the other side, waiting to cross. He leers. I pause. The crossing light for pedestrian's goes green. We both move at once, he towards me, I to the other side of the street. He hollers an invite. I look at my feet and ignore. I'm not a woman, but I'll pass.
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graphics by Lunamoon.