So do I have to be injured for fellow humans to show a shred of incipient humanity? Apparently getting black smudges on my hand yesterday, probably during my morning train nap, and then transferring them to my face in a picturesque fashion is insufficient for a kind soul to pause and warn me.
If I hadn't caught sight of the smear of black on my nose from the corner of my eye, I would have walked into my destination marked up like the little cinder girl. Which was a look that explained why the woman on the train glanced at me and laughed. But not why no one told me!
Bah, humans.
Universe 1, vixen 1.
Also, someone stepped on my foot on the return trip. It hurt.
Universe 1, vixen 2.
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