The rain had paused long enough for her to run down the street. The sidewalk was painted by the faded orange street lamps, and we were just supposed to drive by, continue on, keep going.

Of course I couldn’t. She was obviously crying, so I pull around the block and park. “I’m just going to see if she’s alright,” I say to my coworker in my passenger seat.

I hate wearing shoes. Even flip flops, I just want bare feet. I’m sure I should be concerned about glass or nails or something else that could harm me. But tonight, I’m just not.

I open my car door, bare feet onto the rain-soaked pavement and run towards her. She’s half running, half distraught, but she turns and stops when I ask if she’s alright.

I don’t really mind that we’re in the middle of the road, that we may be in someone’s way. I don’t mind, the girl just needed a quick reminder; nothing gets in the way of love.

Read the rest of this entry »