As I walk down the road towards the subway, a masked man runs out of a nearby store with a bag in hand. Seconds later, the shop owner emerges, blood pouring from the gunshot wound in his chest. A nearby pedestrian shoves past me to help the wounded man, while others call an ambulance. I walk by, unf...
<p>As I walk down the road towards the subway, a masked man runs out of a nearby store with a bag in hand. Seconds later, the shop owner emerges, blood pouring from the gunshot wound in his chest. A nearby pedestrian shoves past me to help the wounded man, while others call an ambulance. I walk by, unfazed, and descend the grimy stairs leading to the subway platform.</p>
<p>The train barrels into the station and I notice a child in a stroller almost roll onto the tracks a few feet from me. The passenger next to me grabs the stroller and the mother runs to hug the total stranger, crying and thanking her profusely. She really should have been paying better attention.</p>
<p>I step onto the third car and take a seat on the almost packed train. An elderly woman follows shortly after me with her walker. She glances around the car as if expecting someone to vacate a seat before the man next to me stands and lends her his spot. By the time someone reaches that age, the politest thing you can do is to put them out of their misery, if you ask me.</p>
<p>I get off three stops later and walk straight over the crosswalk as I reemerge above ground. A fairly angry-looking man bumps into me and apologizes. I just glare at him for a moment and tell him to watch out, his apology totally lost to the wind.</p>
<p>Once back at my apartment, I give my pet goldfish some food and sit down on the couch to watch a movie. I’m not even sure what the movie is at this point, but it stars a few attractive women, so I don’t change the channel.</p>
<p>At 8 P.M. the movie ends and I decide to go for a walk to escape the suffocating dust in my apartment. When I reach the door, I feel a small draft coming from under it. I’ll have to talk to my neighbor again about leaving the building door open for her kids… Once I get outside and close the door, I turn left towards the park near my parents’ old house. There’s really nothing to look forward to there, but where else am I supposed to go? The house is about seven blocks from my apartment, so it doesn’t take too long. During the walk, I realize how much the neighborhood has gone downhill – my childhood home, in particular. The lawn hasn’t been cut in a few years, it seems, and vines grow through the windows. The cheery yellow paint my mother was so proud of is peeling from the walls. All of the shutters have deteriorated so badly that there isn’t any color left. To my a...