Yakima

This ya old man ya mussi think me like him.

I muttered to myself.
The red Honda stream glided on the ground. The Indian man that owned the plaza shot me leery smile. He did his best to appear appealing, the more he smiled and winked at me, the more my stomach recoiled.
Me no like old man.
I scrunch my nose up at him and stared down the road.
One pair of pants was coming.
Yep that’s what I called this boy.
He was not really a boy for he graduated from high school a couple years back,but in my mind he was a boy.
Everyday I saw him in the one blue shorts with the polo signs on it.
Is like him wash and wear it.
Like him no come out until it dry.
The shorts was changing colour, it used to be navy blue and now it was powder blue.