The Present

October 17, 2017
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As I opened the door, I could feel a brief, yet strong rush of wind so powerful it pierced my nose. It was late December, and the powdery, delicate white snow lay atop the evergreen trees each covered so entirely like a thick blanket used to keep your whole body warm on a bitter cold day. I made my way down the steps from my apartment door, careful not to slip on the ice that was barely visible, but that I knew was there.
While trying to decide if I had overdressed for the occasion, I looked down at my hands to see a box, not too small but not too big, the perfect size, that I had forgotten I was holding. The box was neatly wrapped in shiny bright green paper, and topped with a red bow which had been tied perfectly. The present that I had picked out was astonishing to say the least. I was on my way to a party, a Christmas party, more specifically and one lucky person would be receiving my special gift as the result of a yankee swap. For a few seconds in every minute as I am walking, I am watching my feet taking careful steps on the sidewalk, it’s frozen perfect concrete slabs, flat and square. In the other moments, I am looking from my right to my left, and up and down the horizon of the city, waiting for a taxi to emerge through the bustling mob of cars. Through the hectic chaos of the city I can make out a taxi coming my way, it's bright yellow color with an orange tint. I raise both my hands above my head, shaking them in the air and waving them back and forth, creating an unbearably cold gust of air blowing around my head. As the taxi pulled up to the curb that I was standing at, I opened the door and felt a rush of warm air float out and this immediately made me want to get in as quickly as I could.
“Park Avenue.” I said to the driver.
As we drove, I listened to the all very familiar sounds of the city through the car, the obnoxiously loud beeping horns of angry drivers, the buses moan and screech to a halt, tourists chattering about who knows what, ambulances and police cars wailing sirens and construction workers busily working in the distance. I seem to lose track of time as we drive, so concentrated on the road ahead, that the minutes passing don’t seem to be of importance to me. As the taxi pulls over to the sidewalk right across from the building that the party was being held in, I opened the door, this time being greeted by frosty cold air. So overjoyed about the present in my hands, I had forgotten that I could not leave the taxi without paying. I opened my wallet and pulled out a crumpled up 10 dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill. This should cover it, I thought to myself. “Thank you, and here is fifteen dollars,”
“Have a nice day,” he replied.
As I slammed the door of the taxi shut, I looked around me and admired the beautiful city during the holiday season. There was just nothing like it. The glowing essence of the bright lights made me lose sense of what I was doing for just a minute. As I leaned forward, anticipating to take a step in front of the taxi to cross the road, the taxi slammed its brakes. My heart nearly beat out of my chest as I watched the present that I had been holding, the present that I was so excited about and extremely proud of, seemed to slip out from my frozen, numb hands. The present had landed, directly in front of the taxi, where I was about to cross the street. Before I could even look once at the driver to motion to him to stay put so that I could pick up my present, he revved his engine, the smell of gasoline filling the air and sped off, with a sound of screeching tires moving along the street. I watched as his tire ran directly over my present. Completely smooshed and splattered everywhere, I didn’t even bother to pick it up.






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