Down, down the woman went. At first, she tried to stop the fall, but it was futile. The street was crowded; people were waiting for a bus to take them somewhere, maybe Staten Island or Brooklyn after a hard day’s work. If she had not gotten up, they would have left her there. She wanted to cry, but did not dare. Her knee hurt and she limped to the steps of a building. Opening her purse, she took out a pen and a piece of paper. Where will I go? Where can I go, she asked. Where am I going to move to? She wrote down what she couldn’t say out loud to a human being. She got up and walked slowly on to the soup kitchen.



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