27th & Ford

“Damn.” she thinks, gulping in a big breath of air that is thick with rain fallen, and that which is yet to come. She checks the square face of the digital watch on her wrist, walking briskly past Geronimo’s. The bustling deli is seemingly overwhelmed by the crowd coming to collect on the two for one deal of the day promotion they have advertised on a colorfully loud sign to the left of the entrance. She politely penetrates the line that spills from the doorway with a soft, and polite, but firm ‘excuse me,’ her mouth nearly salivating from the aroma of fresh baked bread, and herbs and spices as she goes. She checks her watch again even though she knows not even a minute has passed since she last looked.

She picks up her pace, dipping her head like a track star, chin to chest, focusing on her steps and the cracks in the pavement. When she looks up again, she’s near the end of the block and is bathed in bright fluorescent light. She peers into what she is surprised to find as a sleek, chic looking laundromat, the washer and dryers upright, shiny units instead of the old and rusted, ugly white ones one would normally expect to find in a city laundromat. Her boot clad feet halt and she stands in the middle of the large and impeccably clean storefront window, unable to stop herself from wondering what the business’ insurance coverage is, if they even have it at all, the appraiser in her assessing the risk factor and theft threat. She digs into her large handbag, and steps back, craning her neck until she can read the large bulb sign. Sudspery. “Cute.” she says, a laugh in her voice as she unlocks her phone screen and navigates to the Notes application, quickly typing in the business’ name and address. She continues, shaking her head at herself, a wry smile on her face, totally unbelieving she just stopped to jot something down for work, while already being behind, because of work. She stuffs her phone into the deep side pocket of her coat as she rounds the corner, close to the siding, and almost trips over something her eyes quickly register as a human being. She leaps back, startled, hand at her heaving chest, and catches her breath as she looks down at the man, who is settled in a heap on the ground, leaned against the rough brick. He is dressed in a drowned looking suit that before it got rained on had already seen the best days it ever would. He has a far away look in his glassy eyes, and she lowers about to ask if he’s alright, stopping abruptly as the pungent smell of whiskey assaults her.

She straightens, and sidesteps him, wondering where the family is he belongs to, and who might be missing him. She can’t help but think of the documentary she’d accidentally got sucked into a few weeks prior. The story followed a woman who searched for her missing mentally ill older brother for over half of her life. He had been missing for twenty-nine years when she finally found him. That entire time, nearly three decades, he’d somehow managed to survive on the streets, having spent the majority of his life homeless and wandering. He had a family perfectly capable of providing the care he needed, looking for him all those years, while he existed on the fringes of society, without aid and the medication he needed.

She peeks at him over her shoulder and then shakes her head, trying fruitlessly to dislodge the thought. She turns, looking forward and away burying her nose in the soft wool of the scarf around her neck, shoving her hands into the front pockets of her peacoat. She shivers as the chill of the night cuts through the layers of her outerwear. Against her own wishes her mind lingers on the man, his downtrodden expression stamped in her mind before she remembers herself, and the promise she made to not be late, again. She's ten minutes closer to her destination before she pulls her gloved hand out of the pocket of the faux fur lined coat and into her handbag. She claws aimlessly in the too big purse to find her phone. The sky has darkened, not pitch black, but the kind of dark that has come just after the sun has set. Her face grows tight from the cold and acute frustration as she takes her hand back out of the bag and thrusts it into her pocket, still no phone.

She arrives at yet another intersection. The pedestrian sign reads WAIT, and cars whir past her under the glow of the green light above them. She takes the moment to open her bag with both hands and tries to locate the phone with her eyes, a shard of panic slicing up her back. She huffs out a puff of air and sees that the overhead light is now read and the street sign has changed to WALK. She begins to make her way across the street, unintentionally strutting in her heels. The balls of her feet are tight with tension, and she’d give anything to be in a pair of tennis shoes, but she had no time to make it home to change out of her clothes from work. That would have been fine if there were taxis on 15th Avenue when she rushed out of work after a staff meeting that ran thirty minutes over.

The street had been empty at the time and she thought it a bit eerie. Normally the sidewalks were packed with Wall Street executives, the streets lined with yellow cabs. Not tonight. “Of course not.” She says softly as she sidles up the other sidewalk. She’s still got one arm elbow deep in her purse looking for her phone. She looks around as she fumbles through her bag and she sees a couple across the street embracing, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, their lips connected in a kiss. Her thoughts drift to him for a moment, and she watches them for a moment before averting her gaze uncomfortably and continuing to paw through her purse. At the next intersection, the pedestrian is on a flashing WALK countdown and she is now consumed with not only her lateness, but also her coldness, her now, dampness from the rain, and the case of the missing phone.

She recoils like she’s been burned when she feels a heavy hand drop on her shoulder. She dips out from under the grasp and turns around. When she recognizes the same man that was settled in a pile of bones and skin by laundromat, her stomach drops. He mumbles something she can’t understand as fear drips down her spine. She walks backward as the man reaches out silently towards her. “What do you want?” She asks, scared, she takes another step back when he makes a move towards her. He mumbles incoherently again and reaches into his pocket. The slow drip of fear within her spiked to an onslaught with his movements. She backs up farther in a slow retreat, about to turn completely away when she sees him pull something small from his pocket. She’s taking another step back just as she realizes it’s her phone he has in his hands. And just like that she feels all her fear wash away, her body sagging with relief, and swelling from embarrassment for thinking he’d been about to try and hurt her. She takes one step forward, toward him but is suddenly blinded by bright white light coming towards her from the right. By the time she registered she should be moving it’s too late. The force of the crash throws her body into the windshield. Her right femur splintering, her head hitting the glass of the windshield so hard it shatters, fracturing her skull. She is launched into the middle of the intersection, laying there in a trampled, broken heap of limbs.

Her skull bleeds onto the concrete, staining her hair, and face, her scarf fluttering about in the air somewhere behind her. Her eyes are fixed toward the sky, slack jawed, her mouth ajar, gasping at the air, making her look like a fish out of water. The driver of the car finally emerges, and wretches on the concrete next to his car before stumbling up to the woman, and falling to his knees distraught. The man on the side of the road in the crumpled suit, who still clutches her phone, looks the other direction down the road, back at the scene, down at the phone in his hands again, and walks away.