the scene.

There she is. Standing in the middle of the street, her purse in her hands, clutching it safely to her chest. Natalie Pasker is twenty-four years old. She doesn't  own her own car, and she's never had to renew her license. Of course as a teenager having your license meant freedom, but after turning twenty-one she decided she didn't care for driving anymore, and moved to the city. The only one in the midwest that matters.

It's been three years since she left Urbandale, Iowa.

She's standing there. In the middle of Cullom and Damen. She lives in Chicago now. But it doesn't feel that different to her than anywhere else. The buildings are mostly only three stories, save for the scrapers in the Loop. But if you're facing North, you can barely tell the difference. Of course, she would think that. It's always comforting to convince yourself that what you did isn't that crazy. And, it isn't really. A lot of people, especially those twenty-somethings hit I-80 due East post commencement. She's no different.

She wears Converse, has some freckles and hasn't been burnt too many times in her life. "Sunscreen's important." The voice of her mother reminds her. It's 5:45, but it's summer so the sun's still out.

Tucking wisps of hair behind both ears, she starts to walk, turning around every few seconds hoping to catch the glance of a taxi. She's thirteen minutes late to meet up with friends for a midweek cocktail. She's in her twenties. It's allowed. She thinks it, then says it.

A taxi sidles up beside her, and without making eye contact she gets in. "Ashland. And." There's a long pause as the taxi driver decides to wait for her to keep speaking or to make an educated guess. "Um." She's looking at her phone. Answers a text. "Yes. Be there in — now." Clever. "Sorry, yeah, Ashland and Armitage."

There's something so amazing about calling for something and getting it moments later. You raise your hand in class, and a teacher lets you ask a question. You raise your hand on the street, and you get a taxi cruising. You raise your glass, and others join you.

"You're so late." That's Sam. She's a new friend. A coworker from Eastern Red Advertising. And, just like that, they're night starts, and it's one that won't be remembered at the end of the proverbial day. It's no different a scene than anything else. And, Natalie would think that. Because when you think that then you don't have to invest. And you're just coasting through. Not making real decisions. Standing in the middle of the street waiting for someone else to do the work to get you where you're going.

They grab two Millers because it's easy. Some guys come up, and they chat. And, that's it. Three hours later they leave, and wake up tomorrow. They'll do it all again until they turn thirty. Have a small conniption, then reset, only to do it again.