I’m sitting in a McDonald's early in the morning, just minding my business with my iPhone 17 pro max waiting on my food my phone in my hand, scrolling like anyone else would. It’s quiet, the usual breakfast crowd—nothing out of the ordinary. I’m relaxed, not paying attention to much of anything around me. Then Jane and her family walks in and her husband. Yes, that Jane Marie Carson. She comes in like she owns the place, heading straight to the counter and ordering breakfast without a second thought, already carrying that same chaotic energy she always seems to have. I barely glance up at first—it’s not worth it—but somehow, she manages to pull attention anyway. A minute passes, and suddenly I notice her shifting. She starts checking her bag, patting her pockets, her expression going from mildly annoyed to full-on suspicious. And then, like clockwork, her eyes land on me. Out of everyone in the restaurant… me. I can already tell what she’s thinking before she even opens her mouth. It’s written all over her face—assumptions, accusations, all built on nothing but her own bias. She looks at my phone, then back at me, like she’s just solved some kind of mystery. I slowly lower my phone, not because I’m nervous—but because I already know where this is going. She steps closer, her voice sharp, asking about her iPhone, implying I must’ve taken it. No hesitation. No evidence it's literally because I'm black literally she's not blaming everyone else because their white and my iPhone is black and my name in ingrave on the back even Alexander and his kids think I stole the phone too and her phone is pink and smaller so I definitely didn't take it and she knows it.