There was no doubt that Esme’s new cardigan was a thing of wonder. She had spent several hours shopping for it. In fact, she’d spent more than hours on it; she’d spent a good percentage of her week’s wages as well. Not that that was much. And her shoes and dress all matched too.
Her hair was styled at the salon; her nails were manicured. She felt a new person as she walked down the street. She had been feeling a bit down recently, and this was just what the doctor ordered.
Two guys were waiting for the lights to change at the zebra crossing. As Esme came up to the crossing she heard one say to the other, “Fuck! I wonder how much that slut charges?”
Esme’s heart sank. The lights changed to “Walk”. Esme began to cross, almost now in tears. Desolate. From behind her a street prostitute shot past, pursued by the two guys.
Nonetheless, Esme never wore that cardigan again.