Her Fake Smile

It was barely a glance.

The one that she forced, was futile.

Not shy or timid, but weak.

It felt fake.

Unwilling.

I could feel how badly she wished I didn't exist.

Past me, she moved quickly and clunky, not swift.

Under the hot sun, I froze at her desire to erase me.

Cold, like her.

She smiled, not at me. Familiar.

Not through, but around me. Familiar.

So far removed, it hurt. Familiar.