Developing an Addiction
The singing August sun beat down on the walkway as I held my father's hand firmly, hesitant to release it. We had quite recently gotten off the T and the sweat was at that point pouring down our brows. Everybody around us was in a distraught surge, all heading off to their own goals and not recognizing any other individual's quality. Individuals moved toward each path, faceless in an ocean of dim and dark suits. My dad and I were sore thumbs in the blend; my spic and span brilliant red pullover that had my most loved players name on the back, Nomar Garciapara, and his red cap made us the run of the mill sightseers to the region. I was overpowered with interest; the city was a place we didn't wander regularly.