Wet

Nic awoke to the sound of pouring rain. She had spent the previous day exploring the neighborhood. She discovered that this part of town had a stripclub, a vietnamese restaurant, an old movie theater, and ironically, an abortion clinic right next to a catholic soup kitchen. Behind the kitchen and the clinic there was a lake, and a grassy area next to an abandoned boxcar on a track. This grassy area was where the bums seemed to be. Nic had decided to sleep inside the abandoned boxcar in order to observe the other bums in town. By the time she awoke, they had all vanished due to the rain. She sat up and rubbed her neck which was throbbing in pain from sleeping on the hard floor of the boxcar. A little stream of light was coming in through the space between the edge of the door and the doorway of the boxcar. She reached over and forced the door open a few more inches. She watched the raindrops ripple the surface of the lake, and smack against the tar of the street. After a few minutes she decided  that she would not waste a entire day in sitting around in the boxcar, so she decided to go outside and get wet. She was instantly drenched as soon as she stepped outside. She was also not so pleased to discover that the ground was littered with bird crap. Just then, she heard the screeching of tires and a loud human scream coming from down the street. She rushed down the street, being careful not to slip on the bird poop passing a diner, and turning the corner to pass a record store and a liquor store.  She approached the tall apartment building and looked up into one of the windows. She saw the face of a man with his nose pressed against the glass, and she saw that people were frantically pouring out of the lobby onto the wet, crappy street. And then she saw why. A man was lying on the wet street in front of a bus. There was blood all over the street. Nic stood there among the crowd with her hand covering her open mouth, waiting for the paramedics to clean up the scene.

Where to Start

Watershed Heights was the name of the tall apartment building across from the subway entrance, and was across the street from a bus stop surrounded by benches. Nic  walked across the bus stop, and plopped down on a bench with her back facing the street. She bent down to scoop up a handful of dirt. When she thought that nobody was looking, she took a large pinch of dirt, and sprinkled it onto her chest and lap. She quickly rubbed the dirt into her clothes, and and, with her index finger, smeared a little bit onto her forehead and cheeks. She stood up and wiped the rest of the dirt onto her butt and down the back of her legs. She pulled at the seams of her clothes in an attempt to tear a few holes, but she couldn't pop a single thread. Oh well, I guess they'll tear eventually, she thought to herself. Nic had never been strong physically. Ever since she was a child her parents rarely let her go outside to run around and climb trees and play on the monkey bars like all of the other children. She would have to beg them to let her go, and even when they finally caved, she was only allowed out for fifteen minutes or so. She never understood her parents, and she knew that they never understood her. After dirtying up her wardrobe, face, and hands she stood up and looked around. She heard the sound of a horn being played. She looked toward watershed heights and saw a woman playing a sousaphone. She walked over toward the building, and as she was walking she noticed that the woman was also waving to the people passing by. The woman waved at Nic. I guess this is a good place to start,she thought as she walked closer to the woman, the sound of the horn getting louder and louder. She approached the woman, outstretched her hand, and asked, "Can you spare some change?"...

Subway to the City

Nic sat on the Red Line subway with her knees pulled up to her chest, intently looking out of the train's window, as if that would speed up her arrival. Anxiety overcame her with each passing second. She was nervous seeing as she hadn't made a plan. She had no idea where she was going to sit, or who she was going to talk to, or what she was going to say, but she knew that it had to be better than home. The train stopped, and she quickly stood up, clutching the leather loop that hung down from the ceiling. The doors slid open, and Nic walked out of the train, onto the platform. She checked the pockets of the gray, baggy, ripped cargo pants that she was wearing. She knew she was going to be using these pants for a while. I wonder if I'm too clean, she thought to herself as she made her way up the stairs toward the street. She scruched her fingers through her shoulder-length hair one last time before she reached the exit, and she looked out across the street at Watershed Heights...