'Shoes' is a Metaphor Dammit

I've spent all night long, scared of tomorrow, broke my alarm. Everything's almost lost... pick it up slow, before it's gone...

...We're fragile...

The soles of my shoes are worn down. The laces are frayed, the tongue is loose, and the toes are scuffed up. I've run miles in these, and I've been everywhere with them. I've taken them to different cities, states, countries. I've taken them to celebrations and places of mourning. I've taken them to ring after ring and while wearing them I have won and I have failed; I have stood atop the mountain and I have tumbled down to the bottom. While wearing them... I have gained so much and I've lost even more.

And all because I decided to take a walk.

We all choose our paths. Some of us take more righteous ones, others follow roads blanketed in darkness. And some stroll between both, teetering on the edge of right and wrong... light and dark... the 'in between', as it were. Half of them is shadowed, the other half glowing. They don't know which to take so they try to go down both. But there's a fork, and those streets end up leading in different directions. Which is when the choice becomes far more real...

Because we like to choose what others perceive to be correct. Peers, parents, mentors, and everyone far and in between. We choose to damn ourselves for the sake of others or to damn others for the sake of ourselves. For fame, fortune, glory, or even just fucking bragging rights. People like that... their roads are paved with bad decisions and cruel intentions, and flooded with an overwhelming sense of a self-righteousness that'd impress even the most arrogant of men. And rather than turn around and find a different route, I stepped right into the water submerging that street; right into a puddle that was far deeper than I thought. And I sunk. And even now...? I. Am. Still. Drowning in it.





I can't swim. One of many limitations I have. And even if I'm just in a bathtub, there's this small part of me that's scared I'll fall asleep... go under... and never wake up. Funnily enough, I used to wish for that. I used to plead with fate, or any gods that may or may not exist, for an end to my story. Even if the ending is abrupt. Even if that tale is so far from being finished. Hadn't even reached the climax yet. Ha. But... my eyes always opened. No water in my lungs. No grim reaper standing over me, bony hand outstretched as he welcomes me to a Hell I've already seen. .

"I'm alive..."

"That would b-be a b-bit strange if you weren't."

My gaze, having been fixated on the off-white ceiling of the hotel bathroom above for the last 20 minutes, trailed down to a small blonde head below my chin. The water I sat in was starting to get cold, and I could see goosebumps raised on the small, pale shoulders of the young woman sitting between my legs, back to my chest. With an audible sigh, I stretched out my legs, curling and uncurling my toes with a grimace.

"I think it'd be more than just strange if you were taking a bath with a corpse."

"I've d-done weirder things."

"True. You do hang around with that strange Thea chick."

"Yes... she's th-the strange one." I could practically hear JB rolling her eyes as she went back to scrolling through her phone. With a slight frown, I leaned forward to rest my cheek to her's. The water sloshed and splashed as I moved my arms up and around her small waist. I could feel her tense slightly, then relax against me as I spoke in a casual tone...

"What if you drop that?"

"I won't."

"But what if you do?"

"Once you st-start worrying about the 'what ifs', you s-start overlooking th-the actuality of situations."

I didn't answer that one, instead staring blankly ahead as my thoughts went back to swirling around in my mind. JB noticed my unusual silence and turned her head to look back at me, slightly concerned face inches from mine. "I wasn't b-being that serious..."

"I know." I murmured, frowning again toward my outstretched toes. "Why'd that bitch have to go there? I hate-"

"Having your feet t-touched. Yes I know." She paused, then continued slowly, "Your leg should b-be bothering you more. Among other th-things..."

Lifting a hand to my still recovering ear, having been uh 'attacked' by Winter in our match, I smirked slightly, "Sorry for letting another woman bite me."

"Funny."

"I know. I'm hilarious."

"Like a c-clown."

My smirk dropped as I scowled toward the bemused JB, "No. Clowns are not hilarious."

JB snickered, and my face immediately lit up with a grin. God I love it when she smiles and/or laughs. Makes the goofy act worth it. "Anyway... we should probably get up."

"I'm c-comfortable..."

"Yes, I know my boobs are like sweet smelling flesh pillows to rest your weary head on... but I've got shit to prep for, y'know?"

"... you j-just made b-breasts sound so gross." JB immediately pulled herself away from me, moving to her feet in the decent-sized rectangular tub we'd been soaking in. She then proceeded to unplug the drain.

Feeling a bit empty and cold now I rubbed my tattooed arms and let my eyes rake over the petite figure in front of me. She glanced back again, noticed me staring, and immediately her snow-white skin became tinted with a cherry coloring. "I th-thought you want-ted to go? We should shower off the d-dirty water we just soaked in th-though."

"Uh huh. Is that shower head an attachable one?"

"I d-don't think so... why d-do you a-............." She cut herself off, before slapping a palm to her face and sighing in exasperation. With a giggle, I pulled myself up to my feet and reached around the smaller woman, turning on the shower now. A blast of cold water hit us both, and JB's screech was probably heard as far as the Taco Bell a couple blocks down!

CRASH!!!!

The door immediately slammed open at the noise and my other companion, Thea Zenos, barged her way in, frantically looking around to see JB on the floor outside of the tub, tangled in the shower curtain, and me standing there stark naked under freezing water laughing my ass off. The confused Thea opened her mouth to comment... stopped herself... and slowly backed out, closing the door behind her......

After that craziness, JB and I (after much coaxing and apologizing from your's truly), finished showering and strolled out of the bathroom in like 20 towels. Wildly drying off my hair with one, I heard Thea speak from the comfy chair in corner.

"Damn. Internet's on fire right now."

"Why's that?" I questioned from beneath my towel, as I felt small hands tightening the towel covering my body so that it wouldn't fall. Thea was silent for a moment before answering...

"Casanova English."

"What about him?"

"Everything."

I lowered my towel, blonde hair wild around my face, and lifted an eyebrow toward the dark haired woman. She crossed one fine-ass leg over the other, reading through her phone with a frown and speaking before I could respond, "Everything from last year's Nothing Else Matters to last week's loss. The fans are throwing out theories, assumptions, predictions, and a bunch of extremely sassy remarks."

"Because the great and powerful Casanova English fears the snark of the people. Pfft."

"Depends on who's throwing it his way. What if it was Lawanda?" Thea shot me a wink, and I grinned widely. Lawanda (apparently not her actual name but whatevs) had come to every show since I'd met her in that cafe like a month back. Heavy-set black woman with enough attitude to strike fear into the toughest of men. MmmmmmHm.

"I'm g-glad to see you t-two see this as a joke..." The cold, quiet British tone came out from under a smaller towel as JB peeked out with a frown plastered on her adorable but grouchy face, "B-because who needs to t-take the World Ch-champion seriously right?"

Thea's smile faded out as she sighed and went back to staring at her phone. Meanwhile, I calmly tossed my towels aside and got dressed. Throwing on some jeans, no shoes (duh), and a t-shirt reading: "I'd Rather Be Someone's Shot of Whiskey Than Everyone's Cup of Tea", I stretched again and placed my hands on my hips.

"Ready to go?"

Yanking on her own shirt (a pretty, feminine blouse) and light colored jeans, JB messed with her hair a bit and mumbled, "I g-guess."

"Always." Thea responded, popping up to her feet and shoving her phone in the pocket of her dark jeans. She also wore a black shirt (labeled with- "All I Need Is One Finger") and the usual sneakers. I glanced at the dirt covering those, thinking of the last time I suggested she clean them. To be told that she refused because her shoes tell a story of all the places she'd been was... totally silly, yet still thought provoking in a way. Guess I'd have to walk in them to understand...

Anyway, we got our shit together and headed out of the hotel. As we stepped into the chilly Canadian air, I was the first to scurry to the car right outside the doors. "Yesss they brought it!"

"Uhm..."

"Soooo... uh, what's with the cab, E?" Thea asked, sauntering up beside me and eyeballing the vehicle. Whirling, I offered a mischievous grin.

"I know what we're going to do today Ferb!"

"What?"

"Thea! I mean!" Brandishing the car dramatically, my two companions stared blankly at me as I exclaimed, "We're gonna be taxi drivers!"

"... I'm g-going back inside." JB turned on her heel, but I caught her around the waist, swiftly whispering into her ear...

"You're coming with or you're not coming at all in the near future, honeybun."

The small blonde's cheeks fired up again, but she jutted out her lower lip in defeat as I grinned and let go, pointing at Thea. "Objections?"

"Gonna threaten not to fuck me, too?"

If JB got any redder her head might've exploded. I shot my annoyingly straight friend a sweet smile and a shake of my head, and Thea then shrugged, "I'm not opposed. There's always method to your madness, E. Let's see where this goes."

With that, the three of us piled in, JB deciding she was gonna drive and Thea hopping in the passenger side. I sat in the back, legs crossed on the seat as I buckled up (safety first, everyone!) and cracked my knuckles. Thea, who pulled her seatbelt on, was first to notice what was on the dashboard...

"Why is there a camera right here?"

Without a word, I leaned in and turned it on. Once the red light began blinking, I slid back into the middle seat in the back and stared directly into the lens, "Travel... is fatal to prejudice, to bigotry, to narrow-mindedness. You don't learn much by sitting in your own little corner of the world. To experience other cultures, ways of life... or to even walk in another's shoes... can erase previous doubts and biases."

A pause, long enough to let those words sink in to those watching, before I continued, "You don't have to go far. A different city. Different neighborhood. You take it all in... truly open your mind to others' experiences... and learn that one man's dirty sandals are another's only footwear."

"Where are we g-going...?" JB asked from the front, and I lifted that gaze to meet her's in the rearview mirror. She noticed the serious look painted on my face, a surprised expression now playing on her's as I responded curtly.

"Anywhere."

And so that's where we went. Starting the taxi up, she put it in drive and hightailed it out of there. As soon as we hit the road, I cleared my throat, "What I did was rent this taxi from it's driver for a decent amount of money. We're doing his job today."

"Why?" My smaller friend questioned me, her tone quizzical. I couldn't blame her. It was always something odd from me. Always a weird way of getting points across. And maybe I could just... sit in my hotel room or in some dimly lit area and spout off to or about my opponent of the week. But to add an experience to my words? That speaks louder.

"Sometimes strangers can be the best teachers, right Sweet T?"

Thea looked back at me from the front seat, contemplating what I said before shrugging a shoulder, "Sure, why not?"

"... you're literally the most agreeable person I've ever met."

"You haven't said or done anything I should be disagreeing with." Came her totally chill reply, as she threw her feet up on the dashboard and glanced back over her shoulder at me, "You're a better person than you admit, E."

"I'm far from 'good'. But I wouldn't say I'm 'bad' either." I frowned, knowing I'd have to cut out this conversation from the video feed. "There's people like Matt Robinson, then there's people like Matt Slater. I'm just the in-between."

"Matt Slater huh..." Thea stared up at the ceiling now, a slight grin playing on her lips. I stared at her for a moment, before my own grin appeared. She was so obvious.

"You know... that sexy chunk of British man-meat defeated English."

"It's not that surprising. The way he moves in the ring is impressive. And he's got a good head on his shoulders."

"It is a nice head. And a nice body. And I bet a nice d-"

"ELSKERINNE." Suddenly JB veered off the right, parking the cab, as both Thea and myself were thrown to the side. As we slowly recovered, I straightened to see my small blonde companion turned in her chair and glaring at me.

"Whaaat?"

"Focus."

"Oh I'm focused." I tightened my fists in my lap and locked eyes with her, still smiling despite the feeling in the pit of my stomach, "It just seems like I'm not."

"Uh huh."

"You should have more faith in me." JB was about to respond to that, but I cut her off with a serious remark, "A wise man once said... strip down the walls of lawful retribution and the true nature of humans will gush forth. If there weren't certain things holding them back... don't you think the Orphanage would be more like a fucking terrorist group than just the cute little violent wrestling club they are? Take away laws, rules, regulations... they become horrible, vicious criminals. And... and they're proud of it. At least two of them thrive off of it. So excuse me if I make this situation a bit lighter. Anything could happen at Nothing Else Matters. Anything."

It... certainly wasn't the first time these two had seen me scared. But of a man? Of another wrestler? That was a rare occurrence. Not because he and everyone else in VoW isn't a threat... of course they are. But it's different when you know how people are in the ring versus outside. Those in the Orphanage are the same everywhere... and that's a way more frightening thought.

"I might've overcome Robinson and Winter, but that's just because they're the violent lackeys who do all the dirty work while Cassie sits back in his golden throne and watches it all unfold. Wouldn't be surprised if he had a cat in his lap and evil music playing every time he's seen." I paused, taking in a breath before continuing, "He's a villain. A supervillain. Like Lex Luther but without the tech. Like the Joker but without the hysteria."

"You're more like the Joker, E." Thea piped up, staring up at the ceiling of the car, "Personality wise, anyway."

"I'm far from a cold-blooded killer..." I murmured, glaring away. I then noticed that people had specifically been avoiding the car. Maybe because they saw me in it and thought it was already taken? Dammit, I didn't think this through. "Now what?"

"Keep driving. Maybe we'll see someone waiting for a cab."

So JB did just that, pulling away from the side of the street. As she did, I trailed my gaze back to the camera with a thoughtful expression. After a moment, I cleared my throat and situated myself perfectly in the center, the city flying by the windows around me. There was a moment of hesitation... and I'm not entirely sure why. Fear? Disillusion? Worry... not of my upcoming match, but of just how big of a rant I knew I was going to get into. Because as much as I see English as one of the best wrestlers in the field, as much as I respect his abilities in the ring and his mark on VoW...

He's a deplorable piece of shit.

"Why do we keep dancing with the devil and then wonder why we're still in Hell?" It took a moment for my companions to realize I wasn't talking to them. And I know the plan was to pick people up to utilize some kinda symbolism... which wasn't exactly going well thus far. But... before anything... I just needed to get this off of my chest. What better time...?

"We play right into his games, either on accident or because we have a sick obsession with being mind fucked. Either way, we're like putty in his hands and question why we feel we're being molded by him. Because we don't realize that allowing him to dig into us is exactly what allows him to shape VoW into what he wants it to be. We give him the clay."

We hit a pothole or two, and I tightened my grip on the edge of the seat before continuing, "Casanova English. We call him Mr Perfect. We call one of the most flawed fucking men in the entire establishment that is VoW perfect. And why? His record? Ha... hahaha. Approximately 40 matches. His first match was uh, the 3rd Breakthrough I believe? Against Bobby Backdoor, amusingly enough. One of many he's won. Just like that time he like had 8 wins in a row, blahblahblah. Not as impressive as Blade's record but it doesn't matter. 28 to 12. He's won 28 of his matches. When it comes to bouts he had to fight himself? Almost four times as many victories. 6 losses. 23 fucking wins. Including the first PPV against the long gone, great Starrkadian. An imperfect but impressive record. Yet every time it's the same thing from him."

I was rattling all of this off... and it was becoming obvious, with the slight bags under my eyes and the slightly hysterical gaze, that I'd stayed up quite late the previous night to research all that information.

"He plays with his 'friends' or family, he goes around being all creepy and shit, and then goes off on a this supposed incredible, intelligent, badass rant about his opponent and how they're this metaphor and that simile, how they can beat him but prolly won't because he's the unstoppable force that was just stopped by a guy who has had like 10 times less matches and experience in this fed. Kincaid pulls off this impressive, awesome win and yet we're still making it about Casanova. Everything comes back to him... even when it's not about him."

Letting out a sardonic laugh, I shook my head and looked to the side. Still no one to pick up. I peered out that window with squinting eyes... figuring that perhaps Canada wasn't huge on taxis? Did they just ride mooses everywhere? Is that a mean stereotype? Dammit. I guess I'll never be able to portray that 'good guy' archetype everyone keeps bitching about. But quite frankly... it's not my style. Because I'm a real person, not a cutout of what people like me are supposed to be. And I think English can understand that. Because he's not what everyone wants him to be either. Does he sometimes give in? Act like your stereotypical 'villain' and portray something we've seen time and time again? Why of course. Everyone needs to wear a mask sometimes. Everyone's a little plastic sometimes. It's just... some of us are more wiling to admit it.

"There's really not much to you, English." I started again, smirking into the camera, "You're not as complicated as everyone thinks. And I believe you know that. Just like I know that. You're like an abstract puzzle. The shapes are strange and the picture is complex, but really all you have to do is focus on the edges of the pieces and fit them together. Viola, you have Van Gogh's Starry Night. A difficult, befuddling, complex piece of art created by a 5 year old putting the pieces in where they're supposed to be. Simplicity in complexity is the name of your game and people are falling for it left and right. Kudos... you manage to confuse the general populace because no one wants to think outside the box they're stuck in."

"Amen to that." Thea murmured from up front, and my grin widened... then faltered. Clenching my jaw for a moment, I glanced to the side and stared out the window... at the buildings silently passing by. At the small amount of people leaving and entering. At the world outside the one I've created at that moment. A world where I... just go off... because there's always been something off-putting about my opponent. About the World Champ. It's not the shit he says and does... for all anyone knows, that could be shtick to get attention (because he needs more limelight...). Rather, beyond that... he himself, as a person... even if that has also been painted on for this Messiah personality he's playing... it just... makes me sick.

"Why?" My tone changed drastically. As I'd been speaking, I'd been getting angrier... my voice harsher. But now the anger was starting to peek out, and I wouldn't stop it. Not because I couldn't, but because I deemed it necessary. Maybe I was saying what others were thinking. Maybe it's only me. Either way... someone has to ask.

"I wanna know why. What is the point of the Orphanage? I mean, I know what you supposedly stand for. You're against the big corporations, right? You wanna take all the power from their hands and keep it for yourself. You know, wrestlers who make quite a decent paycheck trying to take control from the fellow rich and famous and for what? What're you gonna do? Because quite fucking frankly, you haven't done shit here!" I had subconsciously started leaning forward at this point, voice rising,

"You won the big one. Your other little acquaintances have, uh... beat people up I guess. Records aren't that great, but whatever. Fact of the matter is, you carry your little group and just have them do the grunt work. Then you pretend that you're 'gaining power' and that you're this supposed force to be reckoned with. Chaos fucking Sworn is more of a threat than you. Not because of lack of ability or talent; the three of you are incredible fighters in that ring. But you waste it on this fake goddamn platform you made up to make yourself look more like a sophisticated society with a purpose rather than a group of heathens running around hitting people like little autistic kids who don't know how to communicate like your average person!"

I stopped, taking in a breath as I noticed Thea looking back at me for that comment. Should I take it back? Edit it out? Or should I say... fuck the people who have an issue with someone who is, quite frankly, making points that matter. It's not an insult. It's fact. It's not cruel. It's life. And at least those autistic kids have a fucking excuse to act that way.

"I assume you're not looking for respect. I assume you're not looking to have people actually care about you. I assume... you're not looking for someone to follow your lead. Because quite frankly anyone with half a brain can see where that takes them. You're the only truly successful one in your little group, English. What about the others? Oh sure, they're known for their senseless violence and anger issues. Known for being hated. And you could say, oh... that brings attention and awareness to your group. Takes the spotlight from others. But it's always the same, and it never progresses. And when anyone hears anything about the Orphanage, they say 'that English guy is hard to beat' or 'English is powerful and near perfection in that ring'. Then they say 'watch out for Robinson, he'll beat your face in backstage' or 'watch out for Winter, she'll attack your pregnant wife'. It's all about how Cassie's the threat as a wrestler while the other two are literally just a couple of ruthless bodyguards for him."

"And those two fell for it. Hook line and sinker." Thea said from up front, staring out the windshield with a thoughtful gaze. She looked back over at me. At the same time, we slowly came to a stop at a red light, and a couple people slowing down next to us peered over as I kept on...

"You have two potential stars who are being held back so Casanova English can look like the mastermind behind everything. He ends up looking like a man of power and depth while the other two are molded into his lil playing pieces." My jaw was hurting at this point, and I unclenched my teeth, but it really wasn't working... there was something about that ideology... having been a 'leader' of sorts myself once upon a time... that really ground my fucking gears...

"But it's not about them, right? It's not about your lackeys and it's not about mine." I jabbed a finger over toward the slightly insulted JB and Thea, then held another up, "Not about my friend Matt and hopefully new friends in Stacy and Katie and Zahara and Zelda and Tyler and all those who actually make respectable decisions and even in loss end up being deserving of respect. But hey, the people who are making VoW what it is... who have helped it grow and become one of the best federations out there for wrestlers and fans alike... they're not important, right? Because this is about you, as it always is, Casanova English. You selfish, manipulative piece of shit."

"Hey... E." Thea tried to calm me down, but I wasn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

"Call it repetitive and call it absurdly emotional and stupid and whatever else you deem it to be. I don't give a fuck. You wanna know why I'm so pissed off? Why this is so important to me?! Because I take my craft seriously. I live to entertain and have fun and help others have fun, even if I end up looking like the fool in the process. Even if I lose or get beaten to a bloody goddamn pulp, at least I had the balls to even get involved. I will get back up and stand in that ring and let you hit me again. Because the crowd loves to see an underdog back on their feet. Because if I give up what does that say? To the fans, to the kids watching and waiting to see what someone like me does next? If I lay down and let you get the best of me, then you get the best of everyone tuning in. You get that limelight, you get the power and attention you so crave and everything is back to you and not them and not anyone who rightfully deserves it!"

I was even closer now, definitely not in a safe position in the car as I stretched my seatbelt to get even closer to the camera, now only my shoulders and face clear to it... eyes full of a raging fire that only grew with each frantically spewed word...

"You don't make this company great. Sure, your abilities are top notch. You wouldn't stand where you are if they weren't. But you, as a person, did not make VoW what it is. I sure didn't either. Not even Miss Sangue did. The people who have struggled... the people who are sympathetic or even just relatable in some way... the people who don't use others for the sake of themselves and the people who try and try again, failing and failing again and fucking up all over the place and still forcing themselves to stand... those are the people who made a difference. Who can make a change. You're just a catalyst. And as of late? Not even that relevant of one anymore." My lips twitched upward slightly, before the cold glare faded back in.

"Once you're in one position for so long... even the things you say become stale. Even the actions you take become a joke. Casanova English... VoW World Champion for what... over 250 days now? It's old fucking news. Just like Ryder Blade getting a win. Just like Matt Robinson attacking someone. Just like Winter viciously howling at people. Just like the Horsewomen spouting off some creepy poems and throwing random fruit all over the arena. Been there, done that, said it, what else is new?" There was a pause there, as I let that point sink in as I had others. Then, after a couple of minutes, I spoke again in an almost hateful tone... uncharacteristic for me...

"I'm a bad person. I've done really... really... bad things. More so than you might imagine. And to say I'm not proud is an understatement. I hated myself so much that I let a certain part of me take over and I became exactly what I'm calling you." The faint light of regret shone in my eyes as I nearly pleaded with everyone watching to understand... "And so now I'm here, trying so hard to show everyone that while I'm just messing around I still care about this profession. That I love my fucking job and want to make something of it, but also want to express the power of positivity and enjoyment and how far a single simple smile can go. And meanwhile you're making light of it all. It's not entertainment. It's not Visionaries of Wrestling. It's CEW. Casanova English Wrestling. It's a game to you rather than a passion. It's something for you to use and throw away and quite frankly you're insulting everything so many people have worked so fucking hard for!"

"E-"

"...and I will not let you get away with that!!" I shouted this, JB avoiding the situation as Thea cautiously glanced back, still trying to cool me off. My mouth remained open, as I tried to form my next words... only for him... only for English to hear, to understand... in a strained voice that broke with at the last word... "You're just... a shitty human being..."

"And yet... you saved my life."

Silence. As I stared into the camera, watery eyes pleading, expression one of pain... until suddenly you're getting whiplash stronger than the double helix on a roller coaster. A smile twisted itself back on my face, gaze slinging back to cheery and full of life, as if I'd never gotten emotional in the first place... "So what's the point? You proved your's a long time ago, as I did mine. So why did I answer your challenge? Why did I run through your brigade of barbarians and step up to the big bad bastard himself?"

Leaning back in the cab seat, I glanced at JB when I saw her attention get grabbed by something else. She started to slow, moving the car to the side and parking it as I began finishing my thought in a calm, soft voice... "You didn't win the way you wanted. Bringing anything out of me... hah... I slayed that demon that made me what you once knew. And now? When I draw my sword even the devil backs away. I forced myself to become a fighter because I couldn't rely on any man or woman in this world to save me from myself and everything else against me. I had no choice to become the warrior, and now my armor is fucking impenetrable. So, no matter what you believe or what others from the past perceived... you didn't give her control, Mr English... you helped me get it back. And for that... I thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

The side door opened suddenly, and an elderly woman silently sat beside me. She wore a nice floral dress with a warm coat over it, scarf over her head. She watched me curiously as I spoke one last time... "But no matter what happens, no matter who gets that count... no matter whose arm is raised... you haven't... and won't... win. Long live Elskerinne... who outlived the Queen."


"Not a b-bad outro, I'd say." JB smirked slightly back at me, appreciating my lil ending note as Thea quietly moved to shut off the camera after making sure the video saved. She paused and glanced over at me sullenly, making me speak firmly to help reassure her...

"I'm angry... not delusional. I never said I planned on kicking his ass or bloodying him up. I just wanna send a message. For them."

Thea watched me, hearing the sincerity to my voice, and finally smiled and shook her head, "You know... I still disagree..."

"Eh?"

"You're not a bad person."

"... heh."

"No, dear. She's right." This new voice startled me as I and my companions all remembered that we actually finally had a passenger. Turning my attention to the lady (let's call her Rosie), I noticed her smiling slightly at me, "I've lived long enough to know the difference."

"Ma'am, no offense... but you don't really know me." I responded nonchalantly, finally relaxing in my spot and making sure to leave an ample amount of space between us. But Rosie shook her head.

"You can learn quite a bit about someone from the words they speak and the look in their eyes."

"What if I'm faking it?" I questioned, as JB impatiently glowered over. "Oh and uh, where do you need to go? So that innocent lil blonde with the pretty eyes doesn't murder me in cold blood."

"The funeral home down on Ouellette Avenue." Oh god, now I had a sad. Clearing my throat, I started to say something but she stopped me, "And those eyes of your friend hold a malice I have not seen for quite some time. Who has hurt her and who has she hurt?"

JB tensed in her seat, fists going white as they tightened on the steering wheel. Thea put a hand to her shoulder, and she shook it away and put the taxi in drive again to head to our destination. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Rosie spoke up again...

"You know... at the end of our lives, we are not judged by our own deeds and accomplishments... but by whether we were there to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and speak for those who are unable to do so on their own."

"Okay, Mother Teresa." I rolled my eyes and stared away. She didn't know where JB and I had come from... what we'd done... our pasts. Not even Thea knew everything. And while I wasn't the same in a lot of ways to English... sometimes we were very similar. But this elderly woman simply put a hand to my arm and smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkling even more as she spoke with a rare kindness...

"All you had to say was 'for them'... and I knew that I'd sat down in the right cab."

That was all she said. All she really needed to, anyway. I didn't think it was necessary to get any other passengers, either. The company wasn't exactly losing money. And we kind of went the long way so we could listen to her stories. Rosie started to prove that she wasn't just an old lady. Her shoes hadn't left this city but they still had wear and tear. Every time we passed something new, she'd point out what she'd done there. That was where she'd met her late husband. This place was the first restaurant she'd ever taken her only son. That building? The only job she'd truly hated.

These were all little things... snippets of a life that didn't really change anything. They weren't even that special or intriguing. But coming from someone who had lived over three times the span of my own life... it felt like it was more than just a taxi ride... but rather, like a tour of some stranger's entire being. And I was fascinated... not because her stories were particularly exciting, but because she had stories to tell. It took away from those callous thoughts about English. It took away how I'd been feeling even thinking about how he portrayed himself. It became more important... and I realized something...

"It's you, too. You... Lawanda... people who don't even know who I am or what I do and still show me a kindness no one ever has." I stared downward, at my hands that were being wrung together in my lap, "Even if I can't do anything about people... like him... I feel like I have to try. Not as a hero. I've always said I wasn't one. Just..."

"Someone trying to make a change." Rosie finished for me, wise eyes never leaving mine. There was a moment where I wasn't sure what to say, so the old woman continued in that soft and gentle voice, "You alone may not be able to... but you can still throw a stone across the waters to create many ripples."

With these words, and a wink from Rosie, we fell into a more comfortable silence as soon we'd made it to the funeral home. We never really asked whose funeral or why. We never really asked where she'd come from or why she'd picked our cramped little taxi. We never really discussed the things I'd blown up about prior. We merely said our goodbyes and watched her take up her cane and walk off toward the building.

"What an awesome old chick." Thea grinned and stretched her back out. JB seemed to think about that for a moment, then shrugged and nodded in agreement. They both glanced back at me as if awaiting my own exclamation... but I wasn't there. The door had been flung open and I was running, barefoot over the cold ground.

Stopping short of flying right into this woman, I made sure she saw me before I hugged her. This startled Rosie, as she slowly, confusedly patted my back. But I simply whispered, "Thank you."

I know it seems weird. But... a total stranger believing in you, because of a mere conversation, had so much more significance than if it was Thea or JB or Matt or any family or friends... because it couldn't be done out of bias or love. It was done out of wisdom and true compassion for humanity. This random old lady, whose shoes had treaded over much rougher terrain than mine, hadn't heard what I'd said... and maybe her opinion would've changed if she had... but it put something into perspective for me. The anger toward English wasn't just about him. It was about everyone who had that same opinion and ideology. It was about the people who didn't care for the art of what we did and didn't care for the people who pushed the hardest. That didn't care for the people outside of all of that who may not know anything about it but still matter. The people who don't know who you are or what you do and still listen to you and judge you not on your job or the bullshit you go on a tangent about... but on you as a person, even if it's just going by the heart and care you put into the things you want to express...

There lies a silver lining in that silver hair.

"Please tell me you've got a number I can have to get in touch..."

Rosie smiled warmly at me and put a hand to my cheek, and something about that simple gesture caused a tear to slide down... as she quietly told me the number and address to her nursing home and soon continued on her way. After a few minutes of just standing there, I exhaled slowly and turned away. Bare feet dirtied now, I started walking quietly to the taxi, my two companions watching me head over, and I just shook my head and laughed... replacing the usual plastic smile with a real just this once...