Hey, That’s My Seat.

The man with the belly, wearing a suit, got up from his uncomfortable seat and took the spot of the tall Jamaican man that had just gotten up. “That’s my seat,” gruffed the tall Jamaican man after walking back from the front of the bus. “You just left,” laughed the man with the belly. The tall Jamaican gave him a long hard stare. The man with the belly excreted fear and got up—he sat down, again, in the uncomfortable seat. I could smell defeat, like stink lines in a cartoon, eminating from the man with the belly.