Bagels are Dangerous

Mondy Ahy

Tompkins 2 WLH

24 April 2015

Bagels are Dangerous

Alice swiftly swung open her closet door and reached for her nearest pair of blue denim jean shorts. She grabbed her sheer lavender tank top from the top shelf and threw that on along with her outfit.

Slipping on her chestnut flip flops, Alice scurried to the kitchen, swiftly dragging the bottom of her ridged soles against the marble floor. Alice was home alone and had left her wallet in her mom’s car. Her eyes scanned for a possible location of hidden money around the house. She yanked open the family’s devoted “messy drawer” under the kitchen counter feeling around for a five dollar bill.

Perfect. There, sitting, crumpled, the end of a ten dollar bill peeked out at Alice in submission. She shoved the lucky bill in her front pocket and bound to the front door.

She slammed the door behind her and took in the fresh air as she made her way down the driveway. Daring to face the direct sunlight, she shut her eyes and soaked in the warmth as she walked on the familiar path. She was alone, but Alice was not lonely.

She hummed with the birds’ songs and glowed with the sun’s radiance as she head in the direction of downtown, the near proximity serving her with much convenience.  

Alice was going to get a bagel.

The skip in her step guided her along the path embellished with an outline of roses. As she ambled along, she admired each quaint little house she passed by.

“I love their red hammock in the front yard. So cute! I’m thinking I’ll get a chocolate chip bagel today. Or a plain with butter. I’ll just get them both.”

Her eyes grinned and chuckled as she imagined how strange she must look, running her thoughts through her head in the format of an agenda.

She neared her favorite house, the white one with a roof of old fashioned brown shingles. The shingles were all different shades of brown and were showered with tiny white flowers from the tree overlooking the elegant architecture. A red mustang convertible gleamed in the driveway with beaming tires and gorgeous beige leather seats.

As Alice’s attention was drawn away from the house a loud white van approached her in the distance. The car rattled with a roaring humm of rap music. As it approached her at a much slower rate, and almost neared a stop, the windows rolled down to reveal three sweaty men crammed together in the front seat. As Alice’s wide eyes met with the eyes of one of the men in the car, she brushed her attention to the dirt ground, as another car simultaneously pulled up behind the van. With this, the car continued on down the road leaving an echo of their music and a trail of their tires.

Alice continued to walk her same path, only now with wavering hesitation. Passing by another house, she noticed some men working on the yard of one of the cute houses. Only this one looked a little intimidating.

Alice felt the need to do something with herself as she walked along, so that she would make visible her desire to go unnoticed. She quickly reached to her back pocket and felt for her phone. She pulled it out with a fastened grasp as her sweaty palms threatened to let it slip through. Unlocking her phone with a swift quadruple tap, her eyes focused as she concentrated on the blank desktop of her screen. The terrorizing shrill of a whistle sliced through the morning air, polluting the atmosphere with an assaulting sound.

The feeling of violation ran through her body like a shiver, as the sound of the whistle pounded and echoed through her chest. She had heard that sound many times before.

“Was that a whistle? Was it for me? It could’ve been something else. Just keep walking.”

Her phone was pushed up against her nose as she continued along her path, only now at an anxious pace. The gravel pathway she scrambled on was cobbled and imperfect, with potholes and crumbles of earth working to hamper her step.

With each nervous step she paced, the chasing eyes followed. Alice placed her free hand on the ends of her short-shorts and pulled them down with an abrasive tug, to cover more of her back legs. She then placed that hand under her throat, against the pounding cage parallel to her heart, her cracked baby blue nails contrasting against the chalked pigmentation of her skin. In an effort to confide a small vestige of safety, she pulled her tank top up to cover more of her chest. She felt the need to protect herself by hiding her skin in ways she could not.

“I’m trying not to flatter myself, ugh, but i can’t help but feel, that somebody’s watching me in appeal”

The fibers on the top of her tank top, now stretched and fatigued, covered the dimensions of her chest with caution.

The meticulous pattern of attempting to cover herself up had become a habit within just a minute or two.

Reaching the shop, Alice uncorked a gust of air from within her and let out a sigh of relief. Only as her hand gripped the shiny metal handle of the wide doors, she realized that her desire for bagels had been quenched in the most unsatisfying way.

Appetite lost and mind frazzled, she stood for a few moments, paused on the handle of the bagel shop’s front. She loathed her foolish behaviour.

“Why did I wear shorts? I shoulda known better. I’ve been so stupid. I obviously wouldn’t feel this way in a nice and big sweatshirt.”

Shifting all of her body weight through her arm, she holsted open the door and glanced over to the thermometer on the wall before stepping inside the shop.

The thermostat read 98 degrees fahrenheit.