Another one of Charli’s challenges. The week’s theme was racism.
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Gil sat in the Home Depot parking lot, drinking his coffee watching the Mexican day laborers collect by the bus stop, their foreign babble drifting through his open window. A group of kids driving by on their way to school flung oranges at the men hollering, “Go home beaners!”
Gil agreed. “Illegals,” he thought. “No one wants you here.”
The younger migrants threw oranges back. On Gil’s passenger window a woman pounded frantically, a limp child in her arms, her Spanish non-stop. “Jesus,” he spilled some coffee.
She shook. “Please,” she repeated. “Please.”
Without thought, Gil unlocked the door