It was awfully dark, some of the lights apparently having been dimmed, and he began to fear that being hollered at for wrecking a shot was going to be unavoidable. He could barely see where he was going. Finally, blessed relief surging in him, he spotted the gate, and sped up a little. “Just another fifty feet and I’ll be home… I made it…”
His feet hit the sidewalk, and he glanced sideways, the city dwellers automatic traffic check, and froze in his tracks. There was no traffic. Early on a summer evening, Central Park West should have been humming with as much traffic as at midday, and yet… it was quiet.
This story is rated PG-13
This fictional story is hosted at Gifted Ones
with permission from the author, Sheryl.