Response to prompt from GirlieOnTheEdge via Keith’s Ramblings where the given word is Junk.
She could not believe they were talking about her junk like that when she’d worked for years building it up, until finally it had become a beautiful work of art, at least to her.
Continuing down the long alleyway towards her home was probably a mistake but, she had finished long ago letting other people’s opinions affect her mood, her outlook on life and most importantly, her heart.
Passing yet another building gone defunct, being resurrected from the filth and ashes it had become victim to by those hippie preppie do-gooders who knew nothing about her city, her people and certainly not her culture; she ignored the rude cat calls and lewd innuendoes spit down from a height of the building she would never see the inside of.
The guys whistled as she sashayed past, her firm, full ass rivaled only by her voluminous chest bouncing wildly while she ambled her way home carrying her new treasure, thinking they only wish they could get their hands on her junk before she could cross the railroad tracks to get home exhausted, trying to keep those guys from overstepping and touching her junk inappropriately.
Placing the newly acquired, rusty bike fender in her garden took some time because everything had its place in her world, then she found the perfect spot beside the mangled, front tire of that bicycle she’d found laying in the snow last winter, she stood relishing the beauty of the junk that was just hers before slipping beneath the curtain of the cardboard box she called home.
Inside her little home she slid beneath the warmth of those woolen blankets the nice lady from the church had given her, not remembering her name or what church she came from but thankful for her blessings, none-the-less.