'Sus Me, For Sale

For a few years, I’d always see this little old Russian lady walking around selling stuff. I assumed she was Russian because she had this cute floral head scarf on that she’d tie underneath her chin. Sometimes she’d have a cart she’d pull behind her, but more often, she’d have a few things clutched to her body in her hands that she was peddling. As I walked by, she’d stop and say, “Sus me, for sale.” The word ‘sale’ would take its time leaving her mouth, as she held out an object in my direction. Sometimes it’d be food, a kit kat, or canned beans. Other times she’d have dishes… saucers and teacups. I’d think about her, and now that I haven’t seen her for a year, maybe longer, I still think of her. Where did you go? I haven’t seen you for awhile, I think I miss you.