In a quaint little bookstore downtown yesterday, I saw this little girl standing in front of the shelves. She was in raggedy clothes, holes in the bottom of her lace shoes. She was desperately trying to reach up to grab a pink-colored book from a middle shelf. Her mother, no-where in site. All alone she stood, her little hands reaching towards the cover, which was now almost in her grasp. And as I stood, watching her, all I could think was, "You're in my way bitch, get out of the fucking way before I throw that book at your dirty face."