Nonsense

Alyssa’s purse thumped rhythmically against her side as she walked down the street, the steady beeping of car horns setting a tempo her feet couldn’t help but follow. The smell of a nearby hot dog stand hung in the cool fall air, coaxing her stomach awake. She decided a quick snack wouldn’t hurt, and let her nose guide her as drool pooled in her mouth. A man walking the opposite way brushing against her bare arm with his worn leather jacket, along with a whiff of cheap cologne. She heard bits of gravel crunch behind her and felt a sudden pressure on her rear. Turning, she saw the man’s arm stretched out, his hand firmly grasping her. Jerking away, she clutched her purse tightly and confronted the man who looked down on her bemused, his cologne wafted around her like a repugnant crowd. Receiving little response from the man after berating him with accusations, Alyssa made up her mind. Loosening her grip on the straps of her purse she lashed out, her fist connecting with the man’s greasy nose before her bag hit the ground with a thud. The man cried out and doubled over, clutching his nose as a trail of red leaking between his fingers. Huffing, she bent over to pick up her bag, brushing city grime from the bottom, and once again felt the comforting straps on her shoulder. She turned to continue on her way, the smell of boiling pork bits once again occupying her interests.