It was that in-between weather. The kind that doesn’t require a proper coat but instead begs for light layers. The climate we had been waiting for since mid July. And so I threw on my favorite pair of black jeans and did my best to combine clothing accordingly. I wasn’t planning to go out that night but my best friend was insisting upon it. Somewhere on the lower east side. I took a cab from Chelsea to Essex because I didn’t feel like dealing with the F train. Cab rides always seem like the faster option. Rarely was this the reality, especially when choosing to take them in the peak of Friday night traffic. The congestion on Houston was inevitable but at least it left me with some time to myself. The ambient noise of the streaming taxi commercials didn’t bother me. That combined with the hum radiating off of the stagnant streets was almost hypnotic. A distraction from the underlying anxiety that had been stinging my subconscious all day. Perhaps I was privy to how the rest of my night would unfold. Or perhaps this was just the unavoidable bit of worry that’s interlaced with all of the human senses. It was too early in the evening for me to distinguish. And so I rolled down my window and let the cold breeze purge my residual unease as we cut across Bowery.
