Rockefeller, the Radio City Music Hall, one block over Fifth Avenue. All the famous sights of midtown Manhattan surround him as he trudges along the street.
He’s not interested in any of them. Not this time. When he first arrived he had been taken in by the glitz of the place. Not anymore.
Now he has one thing on his mind. Tourists bump into him, too busy looking up at the bright lights. They miss out on the humanity on the street. That’s what used to define New York, not the buildings.
St Patrick’s looms up. More cameras and gawkers. When had the cathedral become a tourist destination instead of a place of worship? Did anyone still go there to attend a service?
His stomach churns. Hunger or stress? He feels sickness rise but keeps it down. If he can just get there in time.
Finally he sees the sign. He starts to relax. The city falls away behind him as he opens the door. Dee is behind the bar as usual, Rusty propped up on a stool watching the baseball. All is as it should be.
‘Double Scotch, Dee,’ his usual Friday evening greeting. Another working week over.
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit HERE.
To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
Iain Kelly 
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