Don't Expect Any Mercy

I'm sitting on a bench in the Westmount greenhouse when a young guy walks by catching everyone’s eye by his groomed manner and aristocratic poise,the arrogant curl in his lip marking him as one of the uppermost elite,the son of the son of a son of a millionaire

His disdain was more than just the middle class status game of deliberately not acknowledging others,because he did acknowledge us but not as human beings,frowning in the irritated way people do when they see litter on a lawn
We were in bad taste

Don’t expect any mercy from these people