You are thrown roughly from the house, an open duffel bag landing next to you on the concrete sidewalk. Clothes and several wads of cash fall out of the blue bag because of the impact. The door that you were thrown unceremoniously from is slammed closed and the sound is repeated over and over inside of your head.

    For a few minutes you try in vain to get back into the house and out of the pouring rain. You pound your fist on the oak door and scream at them to let you back in. Not just back into the house but back into their lives and their hearts.

    Two hours.

    It only took them two hours to kick you out. You wonder silently as you gather your stuff off of the wet sidewalk why it did not take them longer to decide how your future was going to pan out. You don’t think that two hours is a long enough time. How can someone decide your fate in only two hours?

     So you told them that you love Nicole. You still can’t quite believe that you had worked up the courage to actually tell them. You called Nicole shortly after telling your shocked parents and she had hung up on you telling you that she was scared and couldn’t do ‘this’. In two hours your entire life had been flipped upside down.

    You only walk a little while before collapsing on a street corner, reality finally smacking you upside your head.

    You begin to cry, the salt from your tears mixing with the pouring rain. You brush your brown locks out of your face and away from your eyes. You throw back your head and open your mouth wide to utter a loud yell of frustration.

    Homeless on the streets of New York.

    Homeless.

    How come that word seemed so much smaller and unimportant when you had a sturdy roof over your head?

    Eventually you begin to shake and you realize that you need to find somewhere dry before you die from pneumonia. Your eyes search up and down the empty street and land on a glass bus stop. You slowly rise and make your way over to the wooden bench. 

    When you reach the bench you lay down, curling your legs up because your entire body does not fit on the bench.

    Then you surprise yourself when you slowly slip your thumb into your mouth looking for some relief or comfort. A part of you sees the weird gesture as a way of getting back to your younger years, back when your parents loved you for just…you.

    Finally, you fall asleep on the hard bench with only your thumb and childhood memories for comfort.