Me: standing in line at bookstore (remember when those were a thing?), having a pretty good day, excited about my find. New Caitlin R. Kiernan when I didn't even know she had anything new coming out. Considering going for coffee afterwards, meeting up with friends later. Feeling happy, like a normal person, for a change.
Him: standing in front of me in line with his girlfriend. Turns around, sees my face, my piercings I guess. Says, loud enough for the entire store to hear, "Jesus Christ, who molested you?" She hits him in the arm, but is stifling a laugh.
Me: put my book down and get the fuck out of there. Don't cry don't cry don't cry, grown men don't cry, not in public, they'll all laugh at you if they see you cry. Get in my car and start punching the dashboard and let out a scream so loud I hurt my throat and am hoarse for the next couple days. Happy day is ruined, and I get so fucking few of them. Can't face friends, go home, don't leave for a week.