The Street 
By Erin Blair
eblair@sonic.net 

        I was walking downtown one day; intending to go to the 
local Barnes and Noble. I loved going there to buy a novel 
or a book on writing. 
        I saw a brown haired woman walking towards me, 
carrying a brown paper bag. She looked to be in her mid-
twenties or early thirties, wearing a heavy, beige sweater 
and denim jeans on a summer's day. 
        She stood there smiling at me as she held out her bag 
to me. Her green eyes scanned me with a mixture of joy and 
sorrow, probably wondering if I'm an honest person. I took 
in everything about her: the way her shoulders were 
slouched, not revealing her true height. 
        I wondered what was she was contemplating. There were 
so many questions that keeping repeating in my mind. Was 
she thinking about her life to this point? Was she thinking 
of her job? Was she thinking about her role in this 
society? I don't know, but these were only my guesses. I 
didn't know the woman.. She could possibly be thinking the 
opposite of whatever emotions she was feeling, but it was 
hard to read this woman. "Here you go."
        I was startled. I had no idea what to expect. She 
could be a terrorist or something - I didn't know whether 
or not I could trust her. "Why?" 
        She smiled at me. 
        She wasn't going to be a threat to my safety. I wasn't 
certain about her. I was thinking about her motives. 
        She just stood there, looking as though she had found 
her salvation in me. She probably thought I was the answer 
to prayer she'd asked long ago. Without saying anything 
further, she turned and walked away. I was simply mystified 
about this woman. She didn't know me; I didn't know 
anything about her. 
        I stood there, holding a bag with unknown contents to 
me.