Brooke Aiello – Death
As Brooke walked down the sidewalk with her hands in the enormous pockets of her enormous black cargos, she was distracted from noticing the hustle and bustle of the city around her by the absolute nothing inside her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything on her mind; it was that her mind wasn’t big enough to hold an entire thought so it defaulted to blank emptiness most of the time. If she had been thinking of something, it might have been that she was walking down a busy street with no idea of where she was going. She might have wondered, or even resented how passersby stared at the high school sophomore wearing the body of a nine-year-old wrapped in all black. It might have been that her only friends in the world were the biggest losers she had ever met and that was saying something because she had been afforded the opportunity to meet some real gems. It might have been that the only thing she could hold onto was a profoundly unhealthy attachment to a teenage boy that barely cared she existed. Details of her infatuation occupied nearly all of the memory centers of her brain and her limited cognitive reasoning was rarely spared the task of calculating the basic math that represented the time that remained before she would get to see him again.
Had she been thinking of anything at all she might have noticed that she had just stepped into traffic and that a silver Camry had swerved to the left and barely avoided running her down. She might have noticed that by swerving when it did, it crossed an intersection and hit a city bus head on. As reached the other side of the intersection and continued walking toward the river she might have become aware that the accident she had just caused went on to include an SUV full of Girl Scouts, a motorcycle and a garbage truck that had, admittedly, been speeding through downtown in an effort to make-up the time it had lost when the crew hanging off of it stopped to have lunch at a strip club on the south bank, which, of course, she could not have known. She might also have felt guilty about the numerous injuries and the two fatalities that happened as a result of the accident. Instead, she continued down the street, without, not only, a care in the world, but, literally, not a thought in her head.
When she got to the park on the other side of the river, she didn’t know that she had arrived fifteen minutes early and stood by the big fountain, looking back at the River City skyline for thirty minutes before Chunk showed up and she remembered why she was there in the first place.