Graffiti
DIE, FOX FUCKER!
Judy read the message spray-painted across her door. Read it again. Read it again. Each reading, the red words stabbed her, deep, twisting her heart to mulch.
The thunk of her grocery bags dropping from her hands startled her, made Bucky and Pronk look up from their efforts to scrub the message away. They looked almost guilty. Judy couldn't grasp why until she looked to their apartment door, saw the words there untouched and glaring.
DIE, FAGS!
"Oh... Guys..."
“Sorry,” said Pronk, smiling weakly. “We got used to this sort of… but you shouldn’t have to, just because you like… it didn’t use to be so bad, but lately…”
Judy nodded, swallowing back a sob. She’d noticed the looks aimed her way. The looks aimed Nick’s way. She grabbed a rag from their bucket and set to work, her on their door and they returning to hers.