It was a Thursday, not bad as far as Thursdays go . . .
The beatbox kid wasnt on the corner this morning . . . odd. . . .
The grounding sound of jackhammers, back-up beepers, and distant blowing horns made him somehow at ease on this gray day. Exhaust, steel, and sewer gas . . .
The peripheral sight didnt quite register until he was several steps past the side alley . . . ("Was that . . . ? . . . A woman laying on the ground?") He went back . . . It was.
"You ok?" . . . He bent down "Excuse me, are you ok?" . . .
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Wicked mistress in the shadows of the jungle - hard and as unforgiving as the cold stone she leaves you lifeless on.
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"What day is it?" She mumbled. "Whats that?" He asked gently, placing the hand towel back just so . . . "what day is it!?" She gruffed over the coffee he set in front of her. "Thursday" . . . "Today is Thursday, . . . . the 20th". "Gimmie a cigarette . . ." "I dont smoke" . . . "fuck . . . " . "They are ba . . ." . . ."I need a fucking cigarette!" She dismissed his sermon with a glare. . . He froze . . . She reigned herself back in . . . "Please?" . . . "I could um . . . .go down to the . . . " he motioned toward the store in his head . . . "Please?" ("This one was gonna be easy"). "Theres more coffee . . . Just ah . . . I'll be right back - couple minutes". She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes over her cup. The dirt and smeared black helped.
* * * * * * *
No good deed goes without ones own need, to satiate . . .
* * * * * * *
Steam billowed from the bathroom - the door open. "You never told me what . . ." "Thank you!" . . . "I bought a pack of . . . " "I cant hear you . . ." He tossed the marlboro's on the table and poured himself a cup.
"I didnt know what kind to get" he pointed . . . She was wearing his white dress shirt he had hung on the door the night before, hair wrapped in a white towel and one drying her face. "Thats fine, thank you - wheres my purse?" . . . " purse? I didnt see any purse" . . .
"Whats your name?" He asked . . . "I need my purse!" She turned to head back towards the bathroom and twisted with a gasp, and fell to the floor. "Oh shit!" He jumped up. "Leave me alone!" She shoved him away, and began to sob into the carpet. "Let me help you" . . . "Go away!" . . . She cried harder. "Here, let me help you . . . I'll go look for your purse". . . "I dont want your help! Leave me alone!" She blubbered inaudible sufferings to the gods of mercy . . . .
* * * * * * *
He returned empty handed, 45 minutes later, the apartment was silent. Jack found her - a curve under the blankets on the far side of his bed. "I couldnt find your purse" he said quietly . . . " She stirred with a slight moan.
"Would you like me to . . . " she muttered something he couldnt make out "what?" He went towards her "I hurt my ankle" she cried little tears . . . . "Do you need a doctor?" . . . "Can you look at it? . . . . Please?" She whimpered, pulling the covers back. She was a very shapely girl, pretty . . . . Nude . . . .