In the city, the hardest thing to find is a parking spot. You can drive around for up to an hour and still have the slimmest chance of getting one. While on the move tonight, I was cut off and had my spot stolen at least seven times, but there's never any hard feelings. I live near a park, so that lessens the chances of getting a spot even more. After 20 minutes, I finally gave up and pulled into a spot that had a fire hydrant. This is illegal of course, so I stay in my car and wait, scoping out the area to see if I'll notice anyone heading to their car to pull out. If I do, I'll drive up quickly and secure my spot so I can go inside and get some work done. I wait idly for about 10-15 minutes when I notice something at the corner of my eye. It was a man and a woman who seemed to know each other, fighting. I mean like fist fighting in the park entrance about something I couldn't begin to worry about.
However, I pause in that moment and wonder if I should break them up before someone gets hurt. But what about my potential spot, I think to myself, which makes me hesitate. On the other hand, In the city, you also mind your business when something doesn't involve or concern you. Consequently, I scrap all that city thinking and get out my car to go stop the two. I step closer, crunching the fallen leaves, breathing quickly because I don't know what to expect, so my nerves are scrambled. It's cold out so I can see the frosty cloud as I exhale into my hands to warm them up. From about two feet away, I shout "HEY!" to the "happy couple" and they barely even notice or acknowledge me. This time, I whistle at them like I do the kids I coach out on the soccer field. The high pitch of my whistle grabs their attention and they jolt to look in the direction it came from. I told the two to "knock it off" and like typical city folk, they tell me to mind my "m-fing business," which I ignore as I scream, "fine, then tell the cops over to your left the same thing."
The two run off before they could even see that I completely made it up and I walk back to my car. I'm dragging towards my car kick a stick that hits a squirrel that runs off and makes me jump. For a second, I thought the homeless guy on the bench was about to jump out of the bushes and kill me. He mumbles something about me being a vile woman and I roll my eyes, continuing towards my destination. You can't take those homeless people seriously when they scream anything, since most of them are out of their minds anyway. Finally, I get to my car only to see that someone literally just pulled into a once open spot and I scream at the top of my lungs, "JUST MY LUCK!"
I eventually got parking that night but a few nights later, while lurking for a spot, I see that couple again, but this time, I force myself to pay them the least attention. They weren't going to make me lose a spot again and I made sure of it. They were arguing this time, so it made it easy for me to ignore them. Then they transitioned to fighting, again, and I'm noticing a pattern here; I keep my focus on finding a parking spot. Every now and then, I glance over to see the status of this domestically violent couple just to be sure they're not taking it too far. I know what I am doing is wrong, but at this point, I'm too tired to care. I look back at the street and see a grayish car pulling out, so I quickly put my car in drive, pull out, and secure a spot with seconds to spare before the car behind me. I felt like a winner tonight, as I only took 10 minutes to get this spot. That's an all-time record for the months I've lived in this area so I do a victory dance that I'd picked up from my kids when they score. To my dismay, I hear some strange sounds coming from the park, much like a hitting sound that had a swish or squish to it. I squint to the direction of the couple and notice the guy tensed up and the girl with rage written in her body language. I walk closer because something just doesn't feel right and the girl runs off as if she stole something. That urges me to check on the guy who I expected to run off with her like he did last time. While I ran closer, the leaves scattering at my huge steps and I see him laying on the ground holding his chest–he was bleeding.
To the left of him, I see the weapon used to do so and like an idiot, I picked it up. I apply pressure to what I think is his only wound and try to get him to talk to me so that he would focus less on dying. I call for help and they arrive in less than 5 minutes. The police take a statement from me about what I saw, as well as a witness who I played little to no attention to because they were clearly homeless. I see the guy off into the ambulance, wipe my hands off onto my pants, and walk to my apartment. A couple of hours after a hot bath, I begin to doze off on the couch and notice a loud banging coming from my door. When I asked who before looking through the peephole, I see the officers from earlier and open the door, invitingly. To my surprise, the officers begin to read me my rights and handcuff me. Apparently, I was being arrested for the murder of the guy in the park because the homeless man identified me as the suspect.
The prints on the knife, the blood on my hands, the time I was seen in the park chasing them off, and the multiple times this same homeless guy saw me were all it took for them to process me and put me away. The evidence, as well as my name and face, were being plastered all over the news. Somehow, I was the real villain for "killing" some guy I didn't even know in the park that night. I knew and he knew that it was his lover, but since she ran off, I was hit with the charge, becoming a scorned side woman who killed him out of passion. I heard he had over a dozen wounds which made it a crime of passion. I maintained my innocence, but was still guilty before a jury of my peers. I'd then go on to spend the next 15 years of my life in prison before the knife-wielding lover came forward to clear me of my misery. It took 15 years before her conscience pushed her, to tell the truth. While I rotted in prison, she had already been married with three kids and I wasted my life away in a cell for something I didn't do. What a contrast our lives were. I was released from prison and given some hush money of about a quarter of a million dollars so that I wouldn't sell my story to the press.
However, the money could pay for my silence, but it couldn't measure up to the years of my life lost to a failed system. I used the money to move to a remote area where no one knew my name, or former name. Yeah, I changed my name and appearance, leaving my old wasted life behind.
To much of a surprise, my only regret was getting that parking spot. If I'd still been searching, I wouldn't have found the time to catch a murder charge.
