Yesterday I held Sophia and we walked from the hallway to the living room. I overheard a commotion outside. Three teenage girls, one furious. She sat on a bench on the other side of the street as the others peered at her, one with arms crossed and the other arms akimbo. The group quieted and looked away when strangers passed: a woman with a stroller, a cyclist in the bike lane. Then the angry one would start anew, yelling, gesticulating wildly. I could almost hear her pleas.