I don’t usually let strangers get under my skin, but today? I came real close to losing my cool.
It started at the feed store. I was picking up mineral blocks and fencing wire, wearing my usual: mud-caked boots, faded jeans, my long blonde braid tucked beneath a beat-up ball cap. The guy at the counter gave me one of those looks—half polite, half patronizing. Like I was lost.
“You need directions to the gift shop, ma’am?”
I smiled without humor. “Nope. Just here to buy what I’ve been buying every week for the past ten years.”
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