The day had begun like any other day in ‘The City that never sleeps’, the sunlight was streaming through the flower patterned curtains and I could hear the noise of the bustling traffic five stories below. I stretched and stifled a yawn and got out of bed. Walking to the window the cool morning breeze gently brushed across my face, certainly not the good dose of country air from what used to home, but it was something one gets used to … if you tried.
I got dressed and made breakfast. I made my way to the kitchen sink to wash up when I glimpsed something yellow from the cluster of magnets on the fridge door. After a closer look, I saw that it was a note from
mom saying that I’d have to drop Uncle Fred’s medication at his work place while I was shopping.
I was locking the door of our apartment, the rusty hinges playing their usual tune, when the loud hip-hop music from across the hall hit me, and do doubt the ruckus within could be heard through the paper-thin walls of the neighboring apartments, the Nell’s could never shut up, fighting or not. They were one of those families that didn’t have peaceful in their vocabulary and we have to put up with the result of that sad fact, as if the leaking sink from the room about ours wasn’t bad enough. I ran down the steps at full speed, reveling in the trill but as as soon as I stepped on the congested sidewalk I saw Mrs. Riggs, and I halted, walking those terrible poodles of hers whom I preferred to avoid, the nasty little half-naked creatures.
I was pocketing my change as I came out of the pharmacy when the World Trade Center came into view. It was here, the two huge twin towers, where my uncle worked as a security guard.
He was a strapping, good natured man who was once in the U.S Navy. I saw his battle scarred face smiling back at me as I walked to the entrance. Continue reading