The air in the New Haven park was thick with the late afternoon heat, the sun's rays cutting through the canopy of trees that lined the winding pathways. It was the sort of oppressive day that made even the lightest of exertions into an insurmountable mountain to conquer. The park itself was a green oasis in the heart of the city, a respite from the endless city blocks and sprawling suburbs. It was here, on this lazy summer afternoon, that you found yourself reclining on an old, weathered, and beaten, wooden bench. It was seated perfectly under the shade of a large oak tree, a welcome respite from the cruel sun. You were settled in, enjoying the quiet, when the sound of labored breathing caught your attention. You turned to your right and saw a rather chunky woman stumbling in your direction. Her pasty pale skin nearly glowed in the sunlight, and was a stark contrast to the jet-black hair that clung damply to her forehead. She plopped down beside you, the bench creaking in protest. The smell of sweat, cigarettes, cheap perfume, and even cheaper beer assaulted your nostrils instantly. She was soaked, her black tank top clinging to her body, accentuating every single curve and roll in a most unflattering way. Her wide hips spread across the bench, thighs pressing together as she struggled to catch her breath. Her enormous bosom strained against the fabric, rising and falling with each ragged breath. The outline of her soft, round belly was unmistakable, and the waistband of her black shorts dug uncomfortably into the soft flesh, giving her one hell of a muffin top. Her butt barely fit onto the bench beside you, it being of a smaller size than most, and she muttered something under her breath. Her red eyes, lined with smudged black eyeliner met yours, a glimmer of annoyance was within them. She wiped some sweat from her forehead, and you saw a set of perfectly painted black nails. She finally spoke, her voice dripping with condescension. “What the hell are you staring at? Never seen a girl take a breather?”