Boston.

Before the weather decided that our idea of a “white out” needed to be replaced with rain, I’d just gotten out of a movie downtown and was making my way to Park Street. Before I shot down the steps, though, I heard a crunch, and my friend said, “Hold on, I want to see this.”

The this? A car had just lodged its bumper beneath the bumper of an ambulance. They were the only two cars on the street.

A crowd gathered. There was an expectant hush. Everyone seemed okay, but what, exactly, had happened? And then it came, a clarion call, lifting us up, carrying us up, away, and through the rest of our respective days’.

“Hey, you’re a jackass!

And just like that, we left, and most of the others did, too, seemingly — wonderfully — satisfied.

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