7
EMORY
I nudged the car door shut with my hip as I lugged two grocery bags and my purse from my parking spot, which, fortunately, I found on my block. It was all very tight parallel parking. It was almost eight and the air was muggy, still and thick like soup. All I could think about was a shower, a simple dinner, then a book. It had been a long day in the ER punctuated by a stabbing, a family in a car accident and a guy with one too many personalities. I had two more days to go this week so I was glad, when the ambulance went by with the siren blaring, it was someone else’s turn to patch them up.
The little boy from the other day and an older man were sitting on my steps. He appeared to be in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and wore a full suit that hid the slight paunch of
