Micro-Fiction: Choices

I can’t say that particular day felt special at the time.

I got up as usual, took my bath, dressed, and grabbed a cup of coffee as I rushed out the door. I was just pulling out of the driveway of my apartment building to head to my job as an executive assistant when I saw the homeless woman fall. She was elderly, wearing a coat and heavy shoes, when she tripped over the raised pavement on the sidewalk. I watched her go down as if in slow motion, saw her head hitting hard against the concrete, the suitcase she was pulling toppling over as well.

I knew at that moment my choice to jump out of my car was going to anger my boss beyond measure. We had a big client arriving in an hour and I was coordinating many of the details of that meeting. My boss’s scowl would turn vengeful when I didn’t walk in and take over.

I didn’t want to get fired, but if it is meant leaving that poor woman lying there, then self-respect was preferable to the little security I had.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” I called as I rushed over and knelt beside her. “I’m here. I’m calling 911. Don’t be afraid.”

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