“Well I can’t.” By Sasha in her bed

Sunday February 12, 2017
5 minutes
Overheard on the 4 bus

“Why won’t you come down here… I don’t wanna talk to you through the Intercom, Roberta.”

“Too bad. I can’t.”

I wasn’t sure how long it would last, the connection, me up in my apartment and you waiting on the street, downstairs, seven flights.

“It’s freezing fucking cold, Roberta…”

“Too bad.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Too bad!”

“Just let me up and I’ll make it okay…”

“It’s not okay.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He can’t help you now.”