“I can’t believe we’ve been off the ship for two hours,” I mutter, focusing on the water below, “I miss it already.”
“You might want to turn around,” my husband calmly says to me as I sip my tea latte from the original Seattle Starbucks. It’s beautifully warm, wrapped in my hands that are somewhat chilly in the breeze blowing off the water.
Mildly irritated, I utter “why?” under my breath and then slowly turn around. As I turn, I notice the bench we are sitting on is damp and now I’m chilled all over. We had just left a cruise ship that morning and I was not yet ready to return to real life. As I turned, I saw a man, lying on the ground, being tended to by a paramedic. The paramedic’s bright blue gloves shone in the morning sun, and stood out against the baby blue of the police car behind him.
“What’s going on?” I asked out loud to no one in particular once I noticed that there was a sea of emergency vehicles pulled up onto the sidewalk and the grass.
As soon as I asked, another man, dressed in stained brown polyester ‘slacks’ (as my Mum would call them) and a striped sweater three sizes too big marched over to us and said, “somebody got stabbed.”
“What?” I almost spit out my latte all over the bench. The shock of it punched me in the chest.
“Yah, some guy came in hell-bent on killin’ somebody. He was high or somethin’. That guy o’er there – see the big black guy? He came after him first but he there pushed him ‘way so then the guy goes after my buddy there. Geez, man, I seen him every day. He don’t mean nobody no harm. Don’t deserve this, that’s for sure. How am’I supposed to sleep tonight? I live right there ya see – that building there across the street. Right there. Damn.” He walked away, shaking his head down with each step.
In response to this week’s writing challenge.