Day 4 - We Meet Again & Do You See It Too?

Um, hi.

I'm Danielle, and this is my story, We Meet Again.

I recognize you immediately.

It's the jack-o'-lantern sweater that catches my attention, the cheap heat transfer vinyl, a gaping, hideous mouth of square teeth and shifty rectangular eyes.

The orange has faded, the black silhouette cracked along the edges, but it still radiates like a hazard light.

I'm surprised you've kept it after all this time.

How long has it been? Or dared to wear it again.

But I'm glad you did.

I may not have noticed you otherwise.

I've been waiting to happen upon you again, to confront you about the day you unraveled on the subway platform during rush hour, the day I felt my heart claw into my throat, felt the wet looseness in my bowels that only true fear can provoke.

At the time, I thought you were just another loony in a city full of loonies.

But you weren't, were you? You must be in a hurry because you're walking fast, and I'm struggling to keep up.

The sidewalk is crowded, and no one seems to notice my desperate hustle.

I'm anxious I'll lose you, and an intense heat has settled over me.

My skin feels tight and itchy.

The cacophony of the city fades, and I can hear the clap of your soles against the cement.

I'd like to call out your name, but I don't know it.

I don't remember it being broadcast on the news after.

You turn the corner now, and I follow.

A woman in black leggings blows peppermint vape in my face, and I wave my hand at it, but she doesn't seem to see me.

On my left, a red neon light in a bodega window says open, and I narrow my eyes against its irritating glare.

I step over a spattering of milky coffee that's running toward the curb, and it reminds me of the way my daughter's bladder let go when you grabbed her.

It happened so fast.

A small crowd waiting for the 6 train, heads down.

My daughter and I had been in a hurry.