Bowling...

It felt as if pushing the doors open of Finch Pointe that morning took a little extra strength today. The air was thick, and hardly solid. I don’t know where I’m going but I have to get out of under that building. The heat as well as the confinement of my apartment were about to cause my head to explode. I look up at the the steamy clouds and wait for the top of a pan to lift off the sky with someone hungry peering down at me. “Excuse me. Could you please point me in the direction of Queen’s Palace?” A long sleek limo glistens in the sun, causing my eyes to squint had pulled up right in front of me. A limo here? A limo heading to Queen’s Palace? The strip club? After a few seconds of astonishment, the words, “Just take this left, right here,” slipped out of my mouth idly. I wait and watch as the car turns the corner and stops right in front of the local strip club, not even a block away. The driver exits the car, closes his door and heads for the other end of the car. The driver opens the door, murmurs something and out pops the passenger. The passenger straightens up and walks toward the bodyguard who shakes the passengers hand and together they converse as they enter the local strip club down the street. Who could that have been? Nothing reasonable could explain this one. Nothing that couldn’t be found out judging by the loquaciousness of these city dwellers. So where to go? There’s no way I’d go into that strip club just to see who this celebrity was, so I’ll just find out somewhere else. I remember the offer a classmate of mine made to hang out some time soon. Semester just began and he felt that a day or two of being lab partners was not enough time for us to get to know each other. He suggested we go bowling. Bowling... Who goes bowling anymore? I decide I might just head over to the local bowling alley, Garrett Lanes, see who does goes bowling nowadays. I turn to my right and see the man with the nice Cadillac I always see racing around this place, I think his name is OJ, falling to the ground as another man runs off down Moth Street. Another man stands over the body, not knowing what to do and is already looking harassed and uneasy. Should I run and find help? Can I just walk away? I don’t want to be a witness. Finding myself in this situation makes me think I am responsible for what I saw. The anguish OJ Smith was currently feeling as he lied in front of the doughnut shop was now a part of my life. A single moment, just three seconds within blinks connects my life to these individuals’ lives. I don’t want to change a stranger’s life. I don’t think I should have the power to do that. I decide to walk away. The bowling alley wasn’t even worth what I had just witnessed. Bowling...