grace pov
I walked the sidewalk that I knew very well. I knew how many steps it would take me to reach the end of the block. And I counted every time. Just to be sure I was right. I walked the cliff that fell into the street, but I wasn't scared. I didn't know that I should be.
I didn't own a car. And I didn't know the reason. Maybe because the only place I go is my college. 4 blocks away. Or that I loved to take the overpriced bus everywhere.
The sounds of the street came back and I learned to love the sound of my feet hitting the shaped concrete. quiet, but noticeable, loud, but in the background. I grew to love the sound of my keys hitting each other. subtle, but obnoxious, home, but locked away.
Many people in my life have asked me why I live underneath the highway. A lone house, shaking with the weight of the cars floating above it. And I, with time, realized why I did. Because it's crazy to think that you are in your own mind, and everybody else is in theirs. Completely unaware of anybody's thoughts except for their own. Oblivious to the idea that they are not alone, but that other people think, and that other people feel, and that everybody is thinking themselves into death.
That is why I live underneath the highway. Because everybody has their own life to go to. And they have to drive past mine to get to theirs.
