Two women approached the door of my job and began to set down their plastic cups filled with clear liquids and half full tote bags. Two women, one black / one fair skinned, now seated in the main doorway criss-cross applesauce. The black woman has a black scarf wrapped around long, dark blonde hair holding a long green wallet in her hands, which I thought was a phone case at first. On her lap rests a horizontally creased, silver Extra gum wrapper, which she proceeds to put into her wallet.

I attempt to open the door to speak to them–
ask them if they can move from the front door.
These are active hours after all. Right?

The door pushes open, sliding her black tote bag an inch away from the door seal.
At this moment, I regret not knocking on the glass.
The black woman scrunches her face in confusion and says,
“Don’t open the door right now, I’m sitting here.”

I proceed to close the door-
they remain seated.

The fair skinned woman, with mid length, apricot colored hair that shoots up like fireworks, is holding another gum wrapper in her left hand. The wrapper is charred in the center with a mixture of blacks and browns. 
Resting on top are small turquoise dots –
I do not attempt to identify the substance. 
Her right hand is holding a red lighter – most likely Bic.
With the wrapper in her left hand hovering over the lighter in the right, a flame emerges and the speck filled glass straw in her mouth becomes the focal point.
The woman tilts her head back in what seems like slow motion and a large cloud of gray smoke releases from her lips.

Watching all of this from one side of the glass window invites imagery of these women as test subjects.

I’ve observed too much, I have to do my job.

The black woman has shifted to a kneeled position closer to the other woman. She holds a white straw to her lips with her right hand, tilting her head to the right side. There’s enough room for me to pop my head out to speak to her. 
As I open the door, the black woman becomes visibly annoyed.

“Hey I just wanted to ask if you both could move from the front door, please?”

The response comes from the fair skinned woman who is not clutching the glass straw and the lighter in one hand, silver wrapper in the other.

“We heard you the first time…we’re going to leave………”, she pauses as I remain standing there, “Leave! Get the fuck out of here!”

I break eye contact and look at the McDonald’s logo across the street.
The irony. 

The woman rises to her feet leaning against the wall of the doorway.
I take notice of her attire.
A black shirt that read Grand Theft Auto on the back, over top a grayish-white thermal, resting on baggy tan khakis. 
She leaves with only the wrapper, lighter, and straw.

The black woman gathers their things: two tote bags, a green wallet, and three plastic cups, all lidded, one with a straw. 
She takes a sip from the strawed cup and attempts to stack the other two.
No success. 
She leaves one cup behind to turn the corner— 
backpedals to the lone cup and crushes it with her black Nikes. 
Only then, did I notice that the cup was filled with ice.

As I walk back to my desk, all I can think about is how white the fair the skinned woman’s teeth were.
For a split moment, jealousy ensues.