When Rachel stepped out of her apartment, she walked back in quickly, reaching for her other heavier jacket on the kitchen chair. This one would protect her from the snow visitor to the city, she would suddenly be without an umbrella for that rain storm that scrolled up all week onto everyone’s smart phones or without a sweater on most fall afternoons.
Last night she spoke to Romina, her friend from Mexico who every few months she would speak to since returning back from Mexico. Rachel would call Romina on her phone card, and speak until the time ran out. These conversations would bring Romina into her kitchen, mixing into the dark beer she would be drinking as they spoke.
Now walking down the street towards the subway, she almost trips on a piece of sidewalk sticking out. It had been almost a year since she had come back from Mexico. Each morning and afternoon she would walk over this spot in the sidewalk and almost trip, a piece of something she would be carrying would fall: her scarf, her glove, her cell phone.