motorfirebox

I swear, if anyone within a twenty-block radius of my person finds themselves in some sort of trouble, they will inevitably manage to bump into me. I'm not complaining--it's just weird. Tonight, as I was taking out the trash, this kid (I thought she was a kid, anyway, turns out she's in college) pokes her head out from behind my van and says "Um, excuse me?"

Her boyfriend had kicked her out of the car on Carson street, and she'd taken it on herself to walk from there to some sort of church meeting up in Whitehall. That she made it as far as my place is in and of itself an impressive stroke of luck--she was wearing shoes designed to look nice at the mall, black slacks, and a black jacket. It was, I should mention, eight o'clock in the damn evening and there are no sidewalks on my street--which is very busy. On top of that, between my place and Whitehall is several miles of declining real estate. Not, y'know, the ghetto, but not a place where a lone upper-middle-class girl ought to be walking at night.

So I invited her in while I put on my boots, gave her a glass of tea, and drove her to her church thing. Gave her my number in case of whatever. And this? This is a completely normal day, for me. This stuff happens all the time.