So while I was outside my job having a cigarette on Monday, I heard someone get hit by a car. I was turned in the opposite direction at the time, but I heard the collective gasp of everyone around me and saw a crowd gathered.
My first concern was for the delivery guys we employ and my heart sank. Then I noticed there wasn’t a bike involved, and was relieved, momentarily anyway.
The person was not moving and I was in the process of dialing 911 when I realized everyone standing on the sidewalk beside me was already doing so.
The ambulance came and took the person away. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will most likely never know what became of them, which is a strange reality of NYC, I suppose.
For the next few days, I was extra sketchy about crossing the street, even when the light was in my favor, something that seemed to amuse fellow pedestrians from time to time. But fuck that, laugh if you want. I know I must look pretty darn amusing, all jumpy and paranoid. I just don’t wanna end up lying helpless in a puddle on the street, surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
I went back inside and watched through the window, my hand occasionally covering my mouth due to anxiety and concern. At one point, the intern said, “Michelle, if you’re gonna get upset, you should go downstairs and get yourself together.”
It struck me as condescending, so I of course (very maturely) said, “SHUTUP INTERN!”
Luckily we have a good working relationship and she knew I was kidding around.
Which I was, mostly.
