Where the Sidewalk Ends

It didn't feel good to run. Wind rustled through my hair as limbs moved in angles that seemed so foreign to me. Breath was ragged, laces flew, and my zipper ticked against my chest. With every footstep I hoped to near closer to my river styx, eyes wide with golden coins. In reality, I had no destination. Calories were spent pushing each cell forward, and for what?

I'm not sure that I ever knew what it was like to truly want to escape. There were times of anxiety, despair, embarrassment even, but none of these occasions caused me to know the depth of an emotion that causes utter hopelessness and uncontrollable confusion. None of these caused an ordinary girl to run down an ordinary street during one of the most ordinary days of autumn.

I had reached my boiling point; however, instead of my insides erupting from within as a spew of frantic regret, they reached the top of my cavernous chest and continued to build upon one another.

The concrete sidewalk became more monocramatic with each stride I took. Weathered cracks blurred together, much like my own lines blurring between imagination and reality. I didn't know how long it had been since I started, nor did I care. As each second passed, my brain became more fluid, more clear. I could feel my feet lifting from the ground, longer and higher with each step, and it was then that I knew things were going to be okay. Things would be okay.

My pace became slower and gradually dulled to a stop. I stood there, perched at the corner of Windmere and Elm, and watched as the trees above melded together into textured patterns of blue and green. The world was temporarily muted as my heart drummed against my ears. I didn't hear the labored wind of my lungs inhaling and exhaling, or the voice of the seemingly nonexistant man in front of me. The world began to shift as those blue and green patterns turned to molten swirls of red and orange. As I struggled to take in another breath, the fire consumed me. I closed my eyes tightly to avoid the heat and the anxiety that overwhelmed me within milliseconds. Maybe, I thought, if I close my eyes tight enough this feeling will disappear.

So, that's what I did. And in that moment, even if for just a blink in time, I was relieved to see darkness.

***

I didn't remember ever seeing such drowned-out mint walls as I did when I awoke. Light shone gently through white framed windows. They looked freshly (and poorly) painted. Itchy wool scraped against the softness of my cheek as I attempted to lift my head. The walls and the windows combined as my head spun once more. I decided to forfeit my moment of instant curiousity as I rested my head back down onto the uncomfortable wool. A small noise escaped my mouth- not so much a groan, but a soft murmur as proof I could still speak.

Seconds passed before my ears picked up the sound of footsteps on what sounded like a hard, solid floor. I opened my eyes and the walls and windows became separate once again. The scene could have very well been exactly the same as it was when I awoke, at least until a man came into my vision, a stark contrast against that minty green.

"Are you awake?" The man said quietly, his voice dripping in comfort. I lifted my head once more, preparing to respond with a feeble 'yes', but the room decided to repeat its circular dance before my eyes. I clenched them tight once more and my attempt at forming that one simple word morphed into another unrecognizable groan. "Lie still." he replied, pulling at a nearby chair before sitting down across from me.

"You collapsed," the man started, "not too far from here, right on corner of Windmere and-"

"-Elm." I managed to say, my voice light, airy almost, but definitely recognizable.

"Yeah," he said, managing a small smile, "you remember?"

I looked up at the ceiling above, taking in that calming, soft color. Memory of me running down the street played before my eyes as a silver screen. I saw the blue and green, the trees combining into a single element, the monocramatic sidewalk and the figure of the man. I saw the red and orange and felt the fire. Turning my head, I opened my mouth to reply to him.

"Unfortunately."

I licked my lips and the man slowly came into focus. His eyes were kind, warm in a sense, and the hazel almost enveloped me as soon as I peered into them. Those eyes shifted down as he gently giggled and rung his tattooed hands together in his lap.

"It's not something I would choose to remember either." It was quiet a mere moment before he looked back up at me and spoke once more. "I'm Frank."

"Beth," I replied, the air becoming clearer as my head adjusted to the light, "is this your couch I'm sleeping on, Frank?" He laughed, nodding his head as he slightly leaned back in his chair.

"Yes it is. The blanket on top of you and the pillow under your head happen to be mine as well." To this I let out a laugh that mirrored his in tone, finding myself smiling for the first time in months. My body seemed to have acclimated and I was able to slowly (but surely) lift myself into a sitting position. I saw the knitted white blanket draped across my legs and smiled as I ran a few of the yarn tassles between my fingers. We stayed quiet for a while, me nibbling on my bottom lip while Frank continued to fiddle his hands.

He was the first to break the silence. "Do you need anything? Water? Maybe a cup of coffee?"

"Water sounds great, actually." I let out a breath that I didn't know my chest was holding, bringing my knees to my chest. Frank got up and disappeared from the room, which gave me a moment to privately take in my surroundings. It was simple, quaint, with a few large pictures and scattered wood furniture. Nothing really matched, which oddly enough gave it a unique and purposeful look. There were a lot of books, at least three bookcases worth, and a few knick nacks placed evenly around the room. I heard the tap shut off and Frank soon returned with my glass of water. l accepted it graciously and felt instantly human again as I took a sip.

"I'm surprised you're so calm about this...situation," He began as he sat down across from me again, "from any other point of view it may seem odd waking up in a strange man's home." I laughed.

"Well, from any other point of view it may seem odd that you didn't call an ambulance." I lifted an eyebrow, smirking as I took another sip from the clear glass. Frank laughed again and nodded, running his hands up and down the fabric of his jeans. Our eyes met again.

"It felt like the right thing to do." I reached over and put the glass down on the side table next to the couch, resituating my body to face him more directly. Crossing my legs, I rested my chin in my hand. "And if I had truly been injured? What if my heart had stopped?"

"Well, I suppose we wouldn't be sitting here having his conversation." I looked at him quizzically and he chuckled at my expression. "It's nice to meet you, Beth."

He extended his hand in which I gently grasped with my own.

"It's nice to meet you too, Frank."