I wandered the streets for what felt like hours, my suitcase wheels catching on every crack in the sidewalk. The February wind cut through my thin coat like it was made of paper, and my fingers had long since gone numb from the cold.
Downtown looked different somehow, smaller and more rundown than I remembered, with several storefrs boarded up and for rent signs hanging like surrender flags. My feet were screaming by the time I spotted the small park nestled between two aging office buildings.
Riverside Park, where I used to bring Richard to feed the ducks when he was small. The memory felt like looking at someone else’s life.
Now, the bench closest to the pathway was empty, probably because it offered no protection from the wind, but I didn’t care. I needed to sit down before I collapsed. My suitcase toppled over as I sank onto the cold metal slats, and I didn’t have the energy to ride it.
