The car stopped before hitting her, but her cart capsized, sending bits and pieces across the street. Trucks and cars drove over the cardboard, ripping it to shreds.
“NO!” she yelled, as clothes were torn by car wheels and what looked like a radio was smashed to bits.
The driver of the car got out, apologetic and offered her money for her belongings.
“You think money can fix this?” the woman wailed, staring at the broken trolley. “I bet you think money is everything, right?” The driver of the car hurriedly gave her everything he had in his wallet, apologized profusely, and drove off.
I watched as the poor woman counted the money and then tried to get her trolley out of the way. As she stepped back, a cyclist came and knocked into her, pushing her back into the road and in front of a bus that was slowing down ahead of a bus stop.
The bus hit her, and she fell. I rushed forward to check on her, but by the time we were able to pull her out of the street and check for signs of life, it was clear she was dead. I was shaken up by the incident. I had to wait for the police to arrive as I was a witness and I kept looking at the money, which she was still clutching in one hand.
I sat down on the pavement, next to the body of the woman, which someone had covered with a coat. People walked past us, not even glancing down or looking at me. It was clear that I was sitting next to a dead body, but somehow in New York, that wasn’t enough to warrant a second glance. People were too busy, they had meetings to be late for.
A man came up slowly.
“Budgie?” is what it sounded like he was saying.
“That you?” He came up to the woman lying next to me. He had a dirty grey beard and was wearing a long coat. As he came closer, I saw the coat was threadbare, missing buttons, the lining torn and hanging in tatters.
“Do you know her?” I asked, but he ignored me.
“What happened, Budgie?” he asked and leaned down to touch her, pulling down the coat to see her face. He started crying, shaking silently as the tears ran down his face. I took the money from her hand and tried to give it to him.
“What?” he said, startled, “It’s not mine!”
He gave a few steps back. “I won’t take her money!” He looked at me like I was trying to talk him into doing something despicable and morally wrong. He couldn’t wait to get away from me. When the police came, I told them about the money and suggested they use it to pay for her burial. From the look on the police officer’s face, I had the feeling it was more likely to go to the overworked police fund for drinking after work.
By the time I got back to the office, I was still shaken up.
I took a call from Nikki and heard that Zoë was ill, but I couldn’t really deal with that. I told her not to call Jade, no matter how much Zoë wanted that. Then I went to the kitchen and got coffee, lots, and lots of coffee.
The marketing and sales guy, Haroon, came to see me about interest from a possible buyer for our app. We talked for a while, and I told him to investigate the company and do proper research.
I stayed late to work, burying myself in an article on AI that I found fascinating. It opened my mind to possible ideas and applications for our app. I sent Nikki a message to tell her I was working late, and I was surprised to see her, in the office, later that evening.
She buzzed at the door, which had been locked at the end of the day.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you dinner,” she said with a smile.
“Who’s looking after Zoë?”
“I got a sitter,” she said.
We went to the kitchen and as soon as the aroma of the friend mushroom risotto hit me, I became ravenously hungry. Nikki watched me eat and something bothered me about her. She’d been quiet ever since she got back from her hiking trip, but I had been so distracted by this business with Alex, I’d been unable to deal with it.
“Is everything ok?” I asked her.
“Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, and I saw her sit up. I got a nasty feeling in my gut.
“What is it? Is it Zoë?”
“Zoë is fine,” she said. “This is about me.”
I took a breath, but I was still unprepared for what came next.
“I think it would be better for us if I resigned.”