LaMesha’s eyes avoided contact. But from her peripheral, one Agent with brunette hair spoke loudly with a story; her arms moved enthusiastically. She stood up and smiled as three others laughed around her. Her storytelling continued, but she stopped talking as LaMesha walked by. And for some reason, LaMesha felt a chill. But she kept her face stone while various whispers and low comments permeated. Though she wanted to ignore it, she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“When’s the last time any of you spoke to her?”
“Who cares? You think her face is stuck like that?”
“Probably, that’s her only emotion.”
“She gets angry too.” Then she heard a chuckle. “That’s her second emotion.”
LaMesha cringed at the immature comments and found herself looking at them. The Agents glared at her. LaMesha glared back, and they quickly retreated their eyes. Now she had clear evidence she was hated; just yesterday, it was a theory, something plausible. But now, they had spoken loud enough for her to hear their disdain. Their hatred was not concealed anymore behind daggered looks but now outward verbal disgust.
The brunette continued her story as if nothing had happened. She and the others laughed in unison. LaMesha drowned out her words with her own thoughts.
