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  • Worth St, between Mulberry and Mott

    It was early morning and Chinatown had been awake for an hour already. Groups of groggy people clustered on the sidewalk, waiting to take buses out of town.

    The kid was getting yelled at when they came into the store. His mom kept nagging him to finish the bagel in his hand, hurry up, keep moving, stop dragging his feet. She grabbed me and shoved a dollar at the cashier.

    Outside she tugged me open and handed me to the kid without looking. He tried to drink and walk, but milk sloshed everywhere. He slowed down, but she wouldn't let him stop and grabbed his free hand. She flew down the street, her arm extended behind her, his way out in front holding hers as milk spilled on his coat.

    He held onto me, empty, for blocks and blocks, looking for a trash can along the way. Finally at Worth St, he saw one but she wouldn't let go of his hand. She had no time for detours or dilly dallying. He pulled her fiercely toward the trash can, but the light turned and she yanked him across the crosswalk before he could protest and I went flying in the opposite direction.
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