Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

The Raisin

“Hold on a second," she said as she bent over to pick something up from the prison floor,“you popped a button.”

I glanced down at my polo shirt and checked to see if I was exposing any cleavage. Nope all four of my buttons were done up, none were missing. I didn’t feel any drafts whipping around my butt which meant my pants were still on my waist so I hadn’t popped a button there either.

“It’s not my button.” I said as she attempted to pick up the button with the tip of her nails.

“Ha! I got it! Hold out your hand.” she exclaimed in triumph and dropped the button into my upturned palm.

“This isn’t a button.” I said staring at the flat black object in my hand.

“It isn’t?”

“No,see for yourself.” I said holding it out for her inspection. “It’s a raisin.”

She studied the raisin in my hand and giggled. “It looked like a button.”

I tried not think about how long the raisin had been laying on the floor or how many dirty, filthy, and germ riddled mc nasty shoes must have stepped on it to get it as flat as it was. My thoughts drifted to my bag in the locker, the bottle of hand sanitizer in the front pocket calling out to me.

“I’m sorry,” she said still staring at the raisin, “I really thought it was a button!”

“No problem. It could’ve been worse; it could have been a squashed bug.” The thought of a squashed bug in my hand made me visibly shudder.

“It’s kind of sad actually.” I said

“How so?”

“For all we know this was once a plump juicy grape in the prime of life when it arrived here but living behind these prison walls sucked all the life out of it. Maybe it was hoping to spend its final days in a cookie or a warm bowl of oatmeal and we just foiled his escape.”

She laughed and held out her hand. “Here you go officer, lock him up put him back in his cell.” I said as I dumped the raisin in her hand.

“You’re the new social worker?” she asked.

“Yup, I was just meeting my clients.”

“How often are you going to be here?” she asked dropping the raisin into the waste basket near her feet.

“Once a week.” I replied

She wiped her hands on her uniform pants. “I look forward to your visits.” she said smiling as she walked away.

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