Julia M. Blum

At the Corner

It was a green light, so I stood on the corner of Ashland and Roosevelt, waiting to cross. Though it was already early March, the winter persisted, and my hands were icy. I rubbed my fingers against the inner lining of my coat, trying to warm them before my next round. The hardest days of winter had passed, but the gray still lingered, casting a cloudy shadow onto the afternoon. I peered across the corner at the gas station. Something was different. There was a large banner hung across the top that read, ‘Rise from the ashes’ with an image of man, his back turned, picking himself up after an explosion. It was just some upcoming movie advertisement, but it felt strange and out of place on the corner, or maybe I just didn’t like change.