This is a snippet of my life, the third in a series inspired by Reader's Digest 100-word story challenge.
When I first moved to Northern Virginia some thirty years ago and commuted by metro, I was shocked at the frantic pace of the crowd at Metro Center. Now I am one of those who hurry from one train to the next and walk up/down the escalator rather than merely ride it. One day I stumbled upon a suitcase pulled by a man. He shouted, “This is not a soccer field, lady.” A bit bewildered, I ignored him, figuring he was angry or even dangerous. As I charged past him, he said, “You play soccer, don’t you? I’m your ref.”
When I first moved to Northern Virginia some thirty years ago and commuted by metro, I was shocked at the frantic pace of the crowd at Metro Center. Now I am one of those who hurry from one train to the next and walk up/down the escalator rather than merely ride it. One day I stumbled upon a suitcase pulled by a man. He shouted, “This is not a soccer field, lady.” A bit bewildered, I ignored him, figuring he was angry or even dangerous. As I charged past him, he said, “You play soccer, don’t you? I’m your ref.”
