American Psycho
We were waiting in line outside the Golden Gate Bakery, in Chinatown. The woman backed up into us, got into my airspace. I thought she was just being rude. Ten minutes later, the line hadn't moved. And the woman was still there.
--Excuse me, she said, and peered behind her. Obligingly, we shuffled out of the way.
--Excuse me, she repeated, and slowly walked backwards through the sidewalk crowd. She made her way to the intersection, stepped backwards off the curb, crossed the street. Other pedestrians automatically swerved around her. Occasionally she glanced over her shoulder and muttered. Excuse me.
I saw that she carried a book in her hands: __American Psycho__.
