The abuse spanned from random old men on the street telling us, especially me because I was the youngest, how adorable we were. Then came, “I’ll give you a quarter if you give me a kiss.” I wanted the quarter. I would take it, give the old man with a cane a kiss on the cheek. He would linger there. Staring. Waiting for something more. I would look around suspiciously until something in me told me to run.
