Funny Names: Calgary Deficit

I have a long list of funny names I made up. Here's a story from one.

Cheese Nips! I'm telling you.

There's a woman like myself sitting in front of me on the metro; folding fan, well-coifed and red suit jacket. I'm soaked, the hair I flattened this morning wet and curly. She doesn't look wet at all. Her hair is so thick and straw-colored and dry. She's fanning herself and it's 65 outside and raining. She is reaching into her bag (she is taking two seats on the nearly-empty car, one for herself and one for bag) and grabbing something one piece at a time, eating (akin to bold and unregretted murder down here); she fans herself and eats bon-bons with her perfect hair and a grace and a self-confidence resilient. I am resentful. Then once and twice and continuously when she fans herself with her paper fan the cool air hits me and it feels good, like a breeze, and I catch the smell of her perfume and I think of Paris gardens, so well-kept, pristine. My favorite part of the city. She turns her head and her face is elegant handsome, and I smell the smell of her food. She is eating Cheese Nips. She lets her hair down and puts it back up. I realize she's baking and also that one day I will be here on the metro, hot and uncomfortable. I think that I will approach that moment as myself and no one else and I wonder what I will convey then and how other younger women will eat me up like cheese nips and bon bons and whether they will see themselves in me.

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