Fine

Fine

written December 9

photo taken October 1

I shouldn't have worn these heels. My legs trembled as I climbed the steps of the bus. I flexed my calves tight. Faded blue seats had been torn open and revealed yellow foam beneath. A comfort to my aching feet. A homeless man sat on my left, drinking vodka from a 20 oz bottle of Sprite. The smell burned the inside of my nose like an unexpected nosebleed, when you swear you weren't picking it or anything. Across the aisle sat James. He had his hands folded and his eyes out the darkened window. Next to him was a woman in red. Her red lips shushed the crying baby on her lap. Shut the fuck up, will you? Two men behind me argued in Spanish. I leaned back to listen, but I hadn't retained much since high school. Trafico... tarde... We were late too. The bus jolted to a stop. Vodka spilled on my dark green dress. I shouldn't have worn this dress. That stain would be there forever. Let's go. James stood, and I groaned. I followed him off the bus. He hurried. Streetlights reflected in the rain puddles. I danced around them to remain dry. Headlights and neon signs brightened the city. I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. I shouldn't have left my gloves. At the next corner, "don't walk" began to flash. I paused, grateful for the break. James continued. We can make it! I struggled to keep up. His brisk stride had a few inches on mine. I loved watching him walk. His confidence. The back of my right heel slipped out of my shoe. My right foot was slightly smaller than my left. I collapsed on the ground, legs outright in front of me, toes pointed up. I sat in the middle of the intersection, soaked. Are you okay? James helped me to my feet. I tried to laugh. He laughed. He held my hand when we crossed the next street. Yes, I'm fine.