At the car wash

It’s 115 degrees Fahrenheit outside, but it’s comfortable in the air-conditioned cool of the car wash.

In the sun, the car washers, all latino, are working, spraying and wiping, getting the customers’ cars taken care of as quickly as possible.

Next to me sit a woman and her blonde child, perhaps four or five years old. She’s pretty.

“Mom,” the girl says, “I don’t like brown people.”

The mom smiles and puts her finger to her lips, “Shhh.”