The startled old man turned back and looked at the cowering woman draped in rags. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Emily deceivingly assured him. “Oh, don’t worry dear, it’s a crowded place. You can’t avoid everyone!” he replied. Emily flashed a smile and walked on, gazing around at the buildings shielding her from the scorching midday sun as she made her way along the High Line Park. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she was a little girl, sitting in her old rundown one bedroom apartment on the west side, trying to drown out the noise of the freight cars moving along the railway throughout factories and warehouses. She dreaded that sound, and dreamed of nothing but one day moving as far away from that noise and the city. Ironically, the one thing she dreamed of getting away from was now her only means of survival.
She looked through the wallet of the old man that she pickpocketed, and finding nothing but a few bills she threw it in the nearest garbage can. Theft was the one thing she had to resort to after the death of her family, and since she had no one to go to, no documents to prove her identity, she spend most of her nights in the streets of Manhattan.
Going past a few strangers, she looked upon her childhood apartment, which stood adjacent to the rail line, and wondered who lived there now. Emily thought about how happy the occupants must be that the railway next to them is free of the noisy freight trains and how disappointed they must be that privacy was not a virtue.
Walking on towards 23rd street, she was soon surrounded by buildings again. Emily despised this part of the park. The monstrous behemoths overshadowed her, looked down upon her feeble soul as if to say that she was below everyone else, that who she was, what she was doing, was no secret to anyone and no matter how much she tried to change it, she was always going to be inferior to everyone around her. The area made her feel scared and guilty about her actions. She constantly imagined everyone looking through their windows, staring at her with contempt and pity. She felt like jumping off the rail line, into an alley where everyone would forget her and she would cease to exist. At least then, she thought, the depression, fear and desperation would end. She began thinking about her parents and her brothers, her life before a fire took their lives. She used to hate this railway, but now she would do anything to get it back. Her desire to go back to the life with her parents, to the sleepless nights trying to drown out the noise outside, was overwhelming. At least back then she had a life, Emily thought to herself.
Tears rolled down her eyes as she climbed over the park railing and up the ladder onto an adjacent rooftop. She pulled out an old can of white spray paint she found amongst bags of garbage a few weeks ago, and shook it violently. Standing on the rooftop overlooking a section of the park, Emily remembered her parents, her siblings, and her childhood. She raised her hand and began writing on the gray brick wall. After a few seconds, and spray paint can in hand, she slowly backed up to gaze at her work, ignoring the colorful graffiti next to her words. She continued to move back slowly and felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as walked off the side of the building, plummeting several stories into the dark alley below.
