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Sal's Diner closed at ten o'clock so when nine thirty rolled around Vivian politely told me I should get going because it was getting late. That's precisely why I wanted to stay. It started drizzling at nine and promptly started to pour by 9:15. The rain was pelting down on the windows, the streets and as of now it was pelting down on me. I was soaked from my head to my toes. No doubt everything in the thin back pack would get ruined. And even if I could salvage anything it would smell of mildew by the time I'd be able to wash or dry it.
It was times like these that I wished the streets were empty. None of them usually are especially not now. It was maybe ten and for almost everyone it was still considered early. Taxi's littered the streets no doubt getting all the business they could take. No one wanted to be caught in the rain. People walking on the sidewalks beside me had their large umbrellas. Holding the edges in hopes that it wouldn't blow with the whipping wind that had started.
Should've taken the money.
I've been repeating that to myself since I started walking. At least I'd be able to afford a taxi instead of walking in a now drenched hoodie that feels like extra pounds being added onto my body. I swapped the sandals for tennis shoes. But even now my feet were soaked since not even ten minutes ago I slipped in a small pond that was supposed to be a puddle. The jeans felt like they were sticking to my thighs and I smelled dirty.
I run across the street avoiding the oncoming cars where a store had a high atrium that didn't seem to get the ground below it wet. I had around eighty dollars left from my trip to the diner. My meal was only around five dollars. I gave Vivian a ten dollar tip. It wasn't much but I wasn't one for the math of tipping and one hundred dollars was all I had to my name. I rest my back against the bricks of the small boutique. My breath coming out in pants, drips of water falling from hair. I try wring out the wetness of the hoodie the best I can.
I start my trek again. I think maybe an hour or so goes by of walking before I stop. Feeling exhausted. The rain showed no signs of stopping and I was practically drinking it being as it was falling so hard and so fast. I bypass a bar, giggling drunk college students out for summer break walk out seemingly unaffected by the harsh downpour. Scraggly men exit hailing taxi's in their wake. I let myself take a break by leaning against the side of the building.
A few old crates stack against the brick wall. Two metal dumpsters and old boxes that were now deteriorating opposite me. I sit on one the crates to my left. It had to be late. Maybe reaching midnight since the patrons of the bar seemed to be leaving. I had gotten no sleep the night before and right now it was all catching up to me. Tired, thirsty, and I felt a little hungry again. Like, midnight snack hungry.
A door slams to my right. A daunting orange-ish color pours out the same time a burly male comes out. Tossing crates into the towering pile. I try to make myself small but it's to no use.
"What're you doing out here girl?"
He sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day. He was more muscle than anything almost as though he was a bouncer. Black T-shirt clung to his muscles as well as his black pants. He scratches the small amount of scruff on his face. His large tattooed on arm has words and drawings I can't identify but they seem menacing all the same.
