End to end, it was seconds.
But this won’t be wiped with a flick of the wrist on an Etch-a-Sketch.
5:37 am. 45 F.
Rain, a light mist.
Minutes from the 5:40 to Grand Central.
Tall. Wafer thin.
Her eyes on me.
I avert, and then return to Her.
Black hair. Neatly primped above shoulders. Dark as night.
Black shoulder bag.
Five yards away.
Black eyes. No light.
I slide back six inches from the guardrail.
She maintains her course, straight ahead.
The Earth and the platform trembles.
It’s the Iron Horse, three spot lamps from the head illuminate the rails.
She stops, in my space, the rail cars rush by…followed by a blast of wind.
We stand face to face. Eye to eye.
She glances at my black rain slicker, and then down at my black shoes.
And snaps her head back up.
She abruptly turns and continues down the ramp.
Her tail, or tail feathers swishing behind her.
WTH was that?
I step cautiously over the Black Cat’s path and wait for the doors to open.
Nah, let’s go with Black Magic.