Sammi, with a heart to dot the I, walked toward
sunset. Or was it sunrise? No, sunset. The city grew dark around her as she
walked. Dark, and cold. She wasn’t dressed for it. Her 10-hole black Docs and
fuzzy socks kept her feet dry as she inexorably splashed through puddles that
expanded on the street all around her. But she had only a thin jacket, and no
hat.
She was soaked by the time she reached the neon and sodium lights of downtown. And knew there was nothing there for her.
Sammi, with a heart to dot the I, stopped mid-street.
Cars blared horns and skid on the puddles. Men cursed, women cursed.
Pedestrians stopped to watch and record on their phones.
This, then, was the highlight, Sammi thought. This is the
sum of my life: to be Internet famous on a dark and stormy night. The Girl Who
Was Hit By A Car. No one will help, they’ll just capture and post.
Sammi, with a heart to dot the I, walked among and
through the stopped cars to reach the other sidewalk. She could feel the fury
behind her, but it bounced off her useless coat. It provided better armor for
slurs than for rain.
Disappointed in her survival, the pedestrians scowled and
went on their way. Sammi met none of their eyes.
She walked deeper into the neon, into the grime, into the flashes of light and thumps of music from brick buildings where women her age danced for money. Sammi figured she’d dance for money too if it meant getting out.
Sammi stopped her wandering an hour later, having not yet reached the city limits, and sat on the curb, knees together. She watched the crowds jostle and walk, bump and occasionally shoulder one another. No love.
Sighing, she rose and went on her way. Then, half a block
ahead, she saw perhaps the most upsetting sight of all.
A child—she got the impression it was a young boy, but he
was swaddled against the rain and his back was to her, so she couldn’t
tell—stood at a street cart vendor. The vendor was semi-dry beneath a large
yellow umbrella, upon which was printed in red sans-serif letters: ICE CREAM.
Sammi, with a heart to dot the I, approached the
scene, scanning left to right to left in search of a mommy or a daddy. Nothing;
the little boy was all alone.
She stood next to him, looking down at his little hooded
head. He was a boy, she was fairly sure, as she placed a fingertip beneath his
chin and lifted it.
The boy wept defiantly; which is to say, tears and not rain
cascaded down his chubby cheeks, but he did not wail or frown. The tears came because
that’s what tears do, but he was fighting them every step of the way.
Sammi guessed he was perhaps eight. In ten years, he could
go to one of the other buildings and dance for money if he wanted to, just like
she could as of tonight.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
The vendor—a remarkably sour man considering his sweet
product—answered for the boy. “He got no money. No money, no food.”
Sammi glared at him. She didn’t need a arithmetic lesson on
how that math worked out. She knew.
She lowered herself to one knee and looked into the boy’s
eyes. “You want an ice cream?”
The little one said nothing . . . then gave one sharp nod. Well
of course he wants ice cream, Samantha, thought Sammi with a heart for the I.
What else would he be doing here?
She straightened and pulled two dollar bills from her hip
pocket. “Here’s the money. Give him the food.”
She cocked her head quickly to one side, pigeon like, to
emphasize her point.
The vendor didn’t argue. In a flash, like a magician, he
flourished a double-scoop cone and handed it over. To her, not the boy.
Sammi presented it to the boy. It was as if the tears dried
on his face as he took the treat, his eyes glowing like the neon signs.
“Thank you!” he said, and his voice, while quiet, somehow
drowned the thump and beat of the dancing places nearby.
“I’m happy to,” said Sammi, with a heart to dot the I.
He ran off, zipping between pedestrians. Sammi wanted to
call after him, follow him, find out where his parents might be, but he
disappeared in the rain.
Sammi turned to continue her walk, noting the vendor giving
her an approving look and faint nod as she went.
To her surprise, she walked toward the sun now. The rain
slowed to a sprinkle, then stopped. She splashed her dry feet through puddles
on purpose, and remembered the taste of ice cream.
She reached the city limits—the limits of the skyscrapers,
the neon, the grime. They fell behind her now as she travelled east. The neon
signs went dark. The thump of music faded. The darkness went away.
Sammi, with a heart to dot the I, walked toward
sunrise.
THE END
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