The smell of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke entered before her.
Well earned dirt beneath each fingernail.
 No one noticed.
No one ever noticed.
“Her people”
The non-noticing kind.
The kind who admire hard work and truth.
No matter who provides it or how.
Or, so they thought of themselves.
Yet, she knew better.
As her work worn hand
turned over each
hard earned bill,
she wondered,
where should she go,
be?