The Street

Sirens wailed, puddles splashed, pedestrians trudged along the crowded paths and streets. A typical Monday morning in New York City, where everybody's trying to do everything possible to get through the day. Huge boxes were being lifted out of a van one by one, by a single scrawny teenager. He didn't look old enough to be out of school, but he looked like he was used to the job. As I got closer, I noticed small scars in the middle of his arm that looked like needle marks. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale. When I realized why he looked like that, I immediately felt sympathetic for him. He was an addict, and he needed the money to pay off his incessant need for drugs. However, I noticed he had an open college level biology textbook on top of his rucksack and he would steal glances every time he collected a new box. With a small smile, I gave him a nod as I passed by and it was returned with a toothy grin.

I managed to flag down a taxi and I took one last look around the city I grew up in before getting into it. "JFK please." I was leaving and I wouldn't be returning in a while, and in this short amount of time, I'd noticed things I would never have given a second glance before.

I was going to make the best of my day before venturing on into my new life. 

The End

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