Art by Anusha Mamidipaka, MS4
I walked by a laurel bush,
breathing in the faint autumn air
laced with damp wood
and a hint of citrus. It must have
been midday. I remember
the leaves crunching, stirring dust
beneath my feet. Two frogs vanished
into the tangle of roots ahead.
A sun-streaked lizard flicked
its tail and slipped into
the undergrowth. A dry twig
snapped somewhere behind me.
Soon, the drone of insects
dimmed to a distant murmur
of passing cars. At the edge
of the clearing, the trees
carried old rain and something
faintly metallic. I reached
the filling station. The petrol
smelled sickly-sweet. Somewhere
after the fumes, down a street
full of idling cars,
an ambulance slid past.
I reached the hospital lobby.
People were being wheeled in.
Masses hurried past.
For a while, I listened
to the paced clatter of shoes.
I watched jackets and badges
blur away. Two notifications flashed
on my phone: biochemistry,
drug screening. I closed
the screen. I took the elevator up.
