American Assassin

Her hood is pulled low over her face and a scarf covers everything from her top lip down. Her nose is shiny from the cold and too many tissues. Her shoulder-length brown hair has been gathered and pulled around to the right side of her neck so it can spill out in soft waves that have that slight fuzzy quality that could mean either she didn’t brush her hair this morning or winter dryness has caused static electricity fuzziness. At a glance, with the positioning of her hood, I see a glimpse of Assassin’s Creed and imagine she has a Glock in the bottom of her worn, empty-looking, brown leather purse that looks more like a bag. I bet her eyes are actually open under her hood and that she is plotting how to best take out her next target. Some seedy, old, fat, white man who is screwing over the working poor in New York. Her hands are encased in knit gloves and folded demurely in her lap. Her black coat is warm with many pockets to store innocuous but deadly items. She wears form-fitting jeans and stylish leather boots. Sexism is hard on female-presenting assassins. You gotta look good and well-put together or you will stand out, but not too good looking or you might be memorable. Also, there are never enough functional pockets in clothing made for your body. Thank goodness you were in Girl Scouts or your tailor’s bill would be sky high.

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