Train Station

One day, this girl (she is a lot older now) is alone, sitting outside of a train station. A man smelling of the liquor approaches her.
"Hi, how are you today?" he says, inches from her face.
She frowns (and maybe glares) behind her sunglasses.
"Excuse me," the man says more belligerently.
"May I sit here please?"
She says, "Go ahead."
"Thank you!" he sits beside of her.
"Would you like a drink?" he holds out the paper bag. It seems to have a tall can of beer in it.
She says, "No."
"Well, me neither!" he says to her.
She frowns.
He says "Hey, please tell me if I start acting like too much of an f-----g asshole, I mean," he looked pained, "not an f-----g asshole, but..."
She starts to gather her belongings.
"No, please don't leave. I'll leave," he says.
"No, thats okay." She gets up and walks towards the escalators, disappears down into the train station. She walks into the women's restroom and there are two young girls talking about whether or not they will be allowed into a bar.
"I mean, we're not f-----g sixteen anymore," they are saying. Its "f---" this and "f---" that. That is the language of the intoxicated and young, she thinks.
She is thinking of this memory/story she has of a time when she might've said something truly awful, and shocking. She wonders if it could be true, and if so, if what she said might have been like the straw that broke the camel's back.