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The man hands me wet paper towels, and I wipe at my face while he wets another handful I can siness in the air sendsback to when I was ten The sh to remember it all these years later

I attempt to hold my breath at the onset of more nausea I don’t want to puke But I want this shirt off me Now

I unbutton it with treers, then pull it off and place it under the faucet I let the water do its job while I take the other wet napkins fro the blood off my chest

He heads for the door, but instead of giving me privacy while I stand here in my least attractive bra, he locks us inside the bathroom so no one alk in on ly chivalrous and leaves h the reflection in the mirror

Someone knocks

“Be right out,” he says

I relax a little, coht that someone outside this door would hear me scream if I needed to

I focus on the blood until I’m certain I’ve washed it all off ht in thecaramel

“Here,” thethe last button on his crisp white shirt “Put this on”

He’s already re from the doorknob He frees hi a white undershirt beneath it He’s muscular, taller than me His shirt will s , but I have no other option I take the shirt when he hands it to rab a few more dry paper towels and pat atit It looks ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t

I takeit I toss it in the trashcan, and then I grip the sink and stare at my reflection Two tired, empty eyes stare back at me The horror of what they’ve just witnessed have darkened the hazel to a murky brown I rub my cheeks with the heels of my hands to inspire color, to no avail I look like death

I lean against the wall, turning away fro up his tie He shoves it in the pocket of his suit and assesses me for a moment “I can’t tell if you’re calm or in a state of shock”

I’m not in shock, but I don’t know that I’m calm, either “I’m not sure,” I admit “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says “I’ve seen worse, unfortunately”

I tilt my head as I attempt to dissect the layers of his cryptic reply He breaks eye contact, and it onlywhat he’s seen that tops acrushed beneath a truck Maybe he is a native New Yorker Or maybe he works in a hospital He has an air of coe of other people

“Are you a doctor?”

He shakes his head “I’m in real estate Used to be, anyway” He steps forward and reaches foraway froardsa step back

His eyes match the tie he just shoved in his pocket Chartreuse He’s handso about him that makes ht be an inconvenience to him A part of him he doesn’t want anyone to notice He wants to be invisible in this city Just like me

Most people come to New York to be discovered The rest of us come here to hide

“What’s your name?” he asks

“Lowen”

There’s a pause in him after I say my name, but it only lasts a couple seconds

“Jereain, and begins washing his hands I continue to stare at him, unable to mute my curiosity What did he mean when he said he’s seen worse than the accident we just witnessed? He said he used to be in real estate, but even the worst day on the job as a realtor wouldn’t fill so this man