‘For fucks sake get a life’ she yelled as he honks at her with violence. She can see the white in his eyes. She hadn’t planned to cross the line, but now that she accidentally did – she owns up to it. This is public space and she is definitely public. The time her luxury, the space her sanctuary and he just entered her church. She is it. A true pedestrian. 

When she finds the white role in her pocket feeling the heavy fabric in her palm she stops shaking. It unrolls with a ‘fffffflapp’ and sails to the ground in an instant assimilating with its environment. It’s official now. This time she redrew the line – not cross it. So we can all go back on the road. Together.

If you choose to fail us, we will never forgive you.

State officials identified the suppression of hugs as a long term health hazard. Therefore various institutions issued instruction manuals for the creation of Hug-Airbags. In instances of running towards each other spreading arms, winglike ready to embrace, the hug airbag inflates allowing for a safe encounter.

‘In outer space, you develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the moon, International politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, “ LOOK AT THAT, YOU SON OF A BITCH”.’ Astronaut Edgar Mitchell famously stated.

Sounds fair – we thought. And did it.

“Oh, that’s helpful – a leaflet”. Issued to sit in her seat pocket together with the safety instructions of the Boeing 757 bound to Monrovia, the capital of Liberia. Two “how-not-to-die-manuals”, both equally useful. 

“Who are you today?” The space blanket is sizzling, distorting the mirrored surfaces of its surrounding. “Name, Surname, Desired Occupation”. It’s simple really.

I looked up from my desk as an old wrinkled hand passes on an order form. She is famous, they say. Big career in fashion, Paris, New York. Her ‘Desired Occupation: Baker’. After pick up she slowly takes some steps towards the door looking down at the small paper square in her hand. “If I had the guts to start all over – this would be it” she whispers.