Fellow Breathers of the Only Air
by B.J. Atwood-Fukuda
She passed whole families walking home from temple, the husbands averting their eyes as she ran by in her sleeveless top and bike shorts. The wives, pushing two-seater strollers and carrying their fifth or sixth kids in pod-shaped slings across their chests, shambled alongside the men, or sometimes behind them, covered in long sleeves, long skirts and opaque hair-nets designed, it seemed, to avoid flattering even the loveliest face.