George stomped into the house, slammed the door, and plopped himself down onto the couch in a heap, his muscular black frame sinking in.

“What’s wrong George?” his wife looking at him inquisitively.

“I am so tired of racism in this town! I tell ya! We moved away from Addlewood to get away from those bigots! Now we have to face that same damn problem here in Quincy!” His frustration quivering in his voice.

George looked at his wife. “Teresa, I went into town today to the hardware store, then I stopped off at that little eatery on Main St. for some grub. When I walked in, I could feel the icy stares of the townspeople drilling into the back of my head. Every head in that diner was staring at me in disbelief…like…like as if I had some communicable disease!” he said exasperatedly.

“Awww honey…I am sure that they didn’t mean it.” Consoled his wife.

“You weren’t there Teresa! You didn’t see those eyes piercing my skull! Besides, I overheard one patron say “My God! What the hell is that? I cant believe he would have the nerve to walk in here like that”

Teresa ran her small hands across his arms and rubbed it ever so gently. “George, I understand your frustration. I know how hard it is for you to deal with this, especially what happened in Addlewood.”

“Geesh! Don’t remind me!” Coddled George

George honey, why don’t you go upstairs and wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Alright dear, I will be right back” he said as he walked up the stairs with a long stream of toilet paper hanging out the back of his pants.