still standing there
the conference ended. or maybe it didn’t. people lingered like the performance was still going. hallway laughter. cups half-full. a woman nodding too hard at nothing.
i had asked my question. black faces in every slide, but no data that spoke to us. just placement. just image.
the speaker deflected. clean. soft. the room let it happen.
i stepped outside. cold air, wet pavement, nothing sticking.
then he said it. ben énervé, hein? like anger was the problem. like clarity was a disruption. like i wasn’t still there.
i found him. calm. exact. you don’t get to narrate my presence.
he laughed. i didn’t.
i walked home with the cold in my hands. still here. still mine.