It doesn't take but a moment for me to notice her across the street as she inspects a produce stand with deep interest. Her knobby knees buckling slightly inward as she fidgeted awkwardly around an orange she had plucked from a pile. Her hair was shaggy and in need of a cut and wash, her bangs in her eyes reminding me a bit of a sheep dog. Her blouse looked like it had been worn far too frequently, as it had faded in patches and now seemed to fray in the areas her hands nervously tugged near the bottom edges. Her skirt on the other hand appeared in strangely mint condition, as if she had decided for once that looking decent in some regard was important to her. As she turned toward me I noticed her glasses had drooped slightly to the right, as it appeared one ear was higher than the other. Her socks mismatched, her shoes out of date, her entire body reading the tell tale signs of giving up in the looks department. 

All the while she caught my eye, leaving me feeling uncomfortable as I watched her poke and prod over the perfect produce on display, quite the opposite of what could be said of her. Finally she left the stand, no product bought despite the deep interest she had devoted to inspecting the fruit. As we walked parallel to one another, her on one edge I on the other, she finally caught my eye. Her face scrunching in a somewhat familiar edge of disgust and loathing. Her eyes prying over me now as she had the fruit moments earlier. Our standoff occurring in shocking silence as the noises of the street around us seem to drown in our condescending concentration.  

I'm about to move, finally finished with staring down this pathetically awkward being when both our eyes meet once more. At once I understand that the woman I've been dissecting from a distance is exactly identical to me. My knees bend together as I pluck in a panic against the old blouse I had inherited from my mother. The bangs of mine that brushed a bit too long against my forehead, while the brand new skirt billows against my frame. I want to move to adjust my crooked specs but instead choose to turn my focus toward my favorite pair of unmatched socks. I Scuff my most comfortable shoes against one another as a blush creeps across my foolish face. All my features were equally familiar as they were distantly alien as they framed this gawky woman, that continued to mirror my movements as we each scurried away.  

Just an idea I had a bit too late at night. Probably a bit less funny than what Marke and Jared had anticipated, but then again maybe it's...relevantly funny? I always think if ever I was to see myself I'd just judge the hell out of every shred of me.