Across the Street
Just like so many other beginnings, this one started at a seemingly random place - across the street. Across the street from what? Across the street from a shoe store, facing an event venue. Not inside the venue, not at the colorful ticket stands with the pre-tattered shirts or the bar where the tender was tired but excited for the crowd. It didn’t even happen where the blue lights were shining on the building. It happened near the windows, littered with painted band names, smeared by a blonde college goer’s hands, and nearly trashed. The remnants of the too-late ticket buyers, at least the ones unwilling to leave even though they were not allowed in the venue, dancing and peeking and yelling songs at the top of their lungs.