The coffee-colored little girl began her dance with little skating steps. She had on those rolling sneakers and with one little toe she’d slide forward.
The woman beside her, all unaware, was speaking the ritual words of thanks and goodbye and exaggerated honor. The shopkeeper’s attendant bows reached a rhythm that fascinated the little girl-she was attracted to the conversation and tried to bow to copy the woman she was with.
Oh, look at that! The shopkeeper exclaimed. She’s just like one of us!
The woman beside the little girl flushed and began to move slowly and gracefully towards the door, reaching out to try to take the little coffee-colored hand in her own golden-peach one.
But what do you mean? The little girl asked.
She turned her face up to her mother to inquire.
Her mother’s face was silent as stone.