by María L. Trigos-Gilbert
Uncorroborated Assumptions: Today I saw a stranger, passing by at one of the coffee shops of my university and she sat behind my seat. She looked like a punk, but I don’t know. I never asked her; I just labeled her. My pragmatism embraced my bitter kindness, almost an obscenity. A punk? Hmm . . . she looked like a human being: Two legs, two eyes, two arms. She seemed to have a brain; she was writing an essay. Or was it a love letter? I don’t know. I never asked. I just assumed it all.