Philip
Philip wondered how long it would take, if he got hit. Would it end instantaneously? Would it hurt badly? Or would shock overtake him so quickly that he’d barely feel his injuries at all. Would he incur some irredeemable sin on himself by subjecting witnesses to such an event? Did it really matter?
He walked on, farther from his dorm, closer to the busiest stoplight he knew (but this was New York, weren’t they all busy?). He’d considered this before. The evening air was quickly turning frigid, but under his thick coat, Phillip was sweating. He recalled suddenly, a line of his father’s college poetry he’d stumbled across as a child. ‘I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory’. He hadn’t understood the line then.
Seven blocks out from his destination he paused. What for he wasn’t sure. The air stung his lungs, pinched his face red. A train rumbled beneath his feet. Across the street, a vent quietly hissed up steam. It reminded him of the radiator at his grandfather’s house. He blew a white puff of air to match, and ceased loitering there.
Six blocks out, he paused again. A street vendor was wheeling his cart down an alley. It was laden with toys, bags, gloves, and candies. He remembered childishly squealing with delight whenever he and Angie had frivolously been allowed a treat from similar carts. It seemed so long ago. He waited until the vendor had turned a corner out of sight before moving on himself.
Five blocks out, he stopped to listen to the sudden laughter of a child from a nearby building. He wondered what the little ones were doing at home now. Maybe finishing homework, or playing a little longer before bed. Mom and Dad were probably with them, helping with hard questions or playing along. Pops was probably in his study. It was a weeknight after all. He continued on.
Four blocks out, he nearly jumped out of his skin when three teens shot out of an alley just in front of him, giggling uncontrollably. They darted across the street, over a fence into a nearby park and disappeared into the darkness, laughter echoing towards the sky. He did his best not to think of Theo at Princeton and Georges at his thrice weekly bio lab. The guilt might pin him to the sidewalk.
Three blocks out, he looked towards the sky. Clouds had gathered, high and wispy, but with enough volume to block out the few stars one could see in the city. Maybe it would snow soon. Panas Herc and Laf would be delighted. His pops, less so.
Two blocks out, his phone rang. Theo. He ignored the call, turning his phone to silent when it finally stopped ringing. Hopefully, she’d think he was just busy and not be hurt by his failure to pick up. She would likely still love him regardless. He didn’t notice the subsequent texts from Georges, asking where he was and if he’d be coming back soon because Theo was visiting and he was missing out on cuddles and kisses.
One block out, he forced some purpose into his steps. The intersection was approaching quickly, cars zooming by too fast for his tired eyes to really track. A yard from the corner he closed his eyes. ‘I love you all,’ he thought, as he stepped off of the curb. A horn blared, too close on his left, and then there was nothing.