Black Sheep

by Rachel Harrison

A man slammed his suitcase into my shin, sending me reeling into a nearby trash can. He gave a frustrated grunt, shook his head at me as if it’d been my fault. “So sorry, sir,” I called after him. “The audacity of me to have mass.”

“This is all so Shakespearean,” I said. I laughed to myself. “ ‘Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.’ ”