A short story about a fateful night.
|Kitty surveyed the bar, looking for nothing in particular. She needed a ride, she needed some cash, and she needed some hope. The ride was the top priority. Then cash. Since she'd left home, she'd ended up in several bars, looking for rides. She knew the kinds of looks she got, the kind of thoughts older women thought in regards to her, but she did her best to ignore it. But tonight was different. It was New Year's Eve, and she really, really needed a ride.
Drunken patrons stumbled around the bar, singing and laughing and sometimes leaving in pairs, although she did see a few quartets, and plenty for trios, in which one member was almost always grumbling about having to drive back and trying to corral their friends out into the street.
She decided to go for it, approaching a young woman.
"Hi!" She said, smiling.
"Hi. How much would it cost to get a ride to the nearest train station?"
"I dunno. Maybe 25 dollars?" She slurred slightly, and Kitty realizes that she's drunk.
Oh well, better than nothing.
In the woman's car, the ignition was stalling. The drunk woman was cursing, pounding on the dash. The car finally started, and they were off.
The drunk woman never saw the headlights.
She survived with some injuries.
She forgot about Kitty, who died in the street on New Years Day.
People still see her sometimes.
Just a cat in the rain on New Year's Eve.