Precipice
Perched on the precipice of my newest adventure, I felt heat from glares: insecure cohorts. Was it my height? Did I look like I didn’t belong? Was it simply a matter of the obvious Islamic grooming, the full beard, and thin mustache that I have worn so long, that I now took for granted? I had to remind myself that I’d left DC, and Charlotte was—the South. They don’t have to be pc here. They can glare at Muslims with impunity. They don’t have to hire me with this beard either. They can just hire someone else. Agitated, I sat and waited.
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