by Conor Malloy
The street felt barren and cold as I walked alone on a bitter winter night. New York was quiet but not as quiet as I hoped it would be. I could still hear the sirens and angry car horns in the city even if I was walking through Brooklyn. Brooklyn wasn’t that quiet either. You could hear the protests from miles away. You could hear them from New Jersey I bet.
I was looking at the ground. I was disgusted. Seeing all the stuff that our country has been through. The riots in Kentucky. The fires in Maryland. Even the incompetence of the most powerful man in the country. And the city.
I didn’t know where I was any more. All that was ahead of me was the sidewalk and above me were the lights of the streetlamps.
I stopped. I looked down.
The light from the streetlamp showed something. It was a single word carved into the pavement. A word that I have forgotten about. It said:
Originally published in Fall 2020, Volume 2, Issue 1