She wearin' Crocs with socks
That's your type now?
Her feet didn’t reach the ground, but that didn’t stop her from tapping them against the chair, her head of foils bopping to a noticeably different rhythm.
“Girl, you know what he did? You would not believe what he did.”
She slurped loudly from the oversized Dunkin cup in her hands.
“I went over there, right? Cuz, you know. I got five of his kids. I can talk to that man if I want to.”
“Why you keep havin’ his kids?” the other woman asked as she spun the chair and poked around in the foils.
“That boy loves me. He just don’t know it yet.”
“Mmmmm hmmmm.”
“So anyway, I go to his house, right? And I knock on the door. And you know who comes out? This little b*tch wearin’ Crocs with socks. And I look at her. And she looks at me. And then he come out and stand behind her. And I’m like, ‘Oh, so that’s how it is! You like them b*tches that wear Crocs with socks? That’s your type now? I’m glad you left me!’”
She took another long slurp. “I’m goin’ back over there tomorrow. She better not still be there.”