The woman takes some time off, but time off doesn’t help, so she goes back—it’s all she can do. And she has to do something; she has bills to pay.
But she can’t drive the ambulance the way she used to.
Somehow, the city’s become a different place—a nightmarish, crowded, endless maze; every turn the woman takes seems a trap about to spring, people and cars and bikes darting every which way.
***
The woman tries to quit, but her boss is insistent—he’s an old friend and is trying to be supportive.
It’ll get better, he says. I promise! Hang in there!
But the woman dreads it more every day.
***
Then one night, while she’s heading into the break room, the woman overhears two drivers talking. They’re discussing the mother of the boy she ran over.
Did you hear? She killed herself, one of them says.
Shh, says the other, as they notice the woman.
Sorry—it wasn’t your fault, they say.
The woman doesn’t answer.
She takes a step back.
Then she turns. Her keys fall to the floor.
***
Outside the hospital, the woman walks down the street. She gets to the corner where she usually turns for home. But this time, she doesn’t turn—she just keeps on walking. She keeps going, aimlessly, alone.
***
She walks through the night, and then through the morning. Finally, she sits on the curb. She hasn’t eaten anything, hasn’t even thought of it. After a while, she gets up and walks on.
***
Later that night, the woman lies down in a tunnel. She watches the cars go by. At some point, the cops come and move her along. She doesn’t argue, just trudges on.
***
Time goes by and it begins to snow. The woman pulls her hands into her sleeves. She lies down and curls up in a ball by the curb.
She shivers.
But then the cold seems to leave.
***
