Literary Startup Submission
My boot’s government issue sole snags a gap where more sidewalk should be. A lifetime of northeast winters has left this particular strip soft and chapped. My right foot shoots out in front to compensate, jolting me back to the present, out of my fog. An early morning grey creeps over warehouse rooftops, while a grime-drenched gypsy cab limps past me. The tires don’t move, the car simply slides by shadows of buildings, while dim streetlights guide its path.