Six Seconds

November 7, 2010
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The cold air blew puffs of fog when her laughter flew through her lips, rolling off her tongue so harmoniously, it’d make a bird cry.
Gripping the almost frozen ropes tighter to my now clammy hands, I swung Channel and Coach round and round. The big red light ahead made me glance past at the blowing wheels racing over the pavement.
The streets were practically whispers while our faithful temperatures kept everyone away. To us, it was an open invitation for the breeze, an invitation to feel free.
Our feet skidded to a stop letting the each car pass. A red one. A green one. A white one. A red one. A black one. A red one.
A yellow block caught my eye and I stared off adjusting my week eyes to the distance. ‘Sale’. My hand reached out like a crow bar searching for her, but the space was empty.
The screeching tires flowed to my ears. My head whipped around with such force it sent my hair soaring over my left shoulder and I was engulfed with the smell of burning rubber.
Her eyes made perfect circles when she caught my screaming chords. But nothing, nothing could compare to this. The bags did cartwheels going up and up and up, sending cashmere, cotton, polyester flying through the thick air.
Her body was gone, that I knew, but my feet pounded out into the streets after her, but I was too late.
And I watched as the final red satin scarf flowed like a wave, down to the deadly ice cold boulevard road.

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