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Annoying cat.
Dec. 17th, 2003 05:18 amOnce the cat wakes me up a certain number of times, getting back to sleep is just kind of impossible.
Dec. 17th, 2003
I don't know for certain that she was dead. Just that she wasn't moving or apparently breathing. Other people in the train station said she'd fallen down, and she was halfway down the stairs at the Hynes/ICA train station, slumped against the wall. There were packages, bags, spilled down the stairs below her. She looked forty maybe. I don't know.
Everyone was sort of standing around confused and bewildered, not sure what to do. People were asking each other if the police or anybody were on their way, and were reassuring each other that they were. Other people were just going up and down the other half of the staircase.
The homeless guy who lives there was still asleep, wrapped in his wool blanket behind the ATM machine. I guess he can sleep through most anything. I don't know his name, but I gave him a piece of pumpkin pie that I was taking home from work, once.
I left to go to work, hardly really paused. But I did see a Massachusetts State Police officer walking down the street a block away, and went up to him, and said, "Excuse me, sir." He turned around. I said, "There appears to be an injured woman on the stairs in the train station." He looked startled -- actually jumped a little bit -- and said, "Thank you; I'll take care of the situation from here," and he went off into the train station. I continued on to work, and started hearing sirens.
Was she dead? I don't know. And I'm never going to know. And it bothers me a little -- but not very much. And it bothers me a little how little it bothers me -- but not very much.
I know I'm not heartless, or uncaring. But I live in a city. And there's half a million people around here, and I can't care about them all personally. And, well -- I worked on a suicide hotline. They train you to care about people while you're there, and then let it all go when the call's over.
We have police officers. And I didn't just leave it at, "Someone else has called, or will call, the police." I told a police officer what the situation was, and let him handle it.
When I came home from work, there was no indication that there had been any sort of disturbance.
Everyone was sort of standing around confused and bewildered, not sure what to do. People were asking each other if the police or anybody were on their way, and were reassuring each other that they were. Other people were just going up and down the other half of the staircase.
The homeless guy who lives there was still asleep, wrapped in his wool blanket behind the ATM machine. I guess he can sleep through most anything. I don't know his name, but I gave him a piece of pumpkin pie that I was taking home from work, once.
I left to go to work, hardly really paused. But I did see a Massachusetts State Police officer walking down the street a block away, and went up to him, and said, "Excuse me, sir." He turned around. I said, "There appears to be an injured woman on the stairs in the train station." He looked startled -- actually jumped a little bit -- and said, "Thank you; I'll take care of the situation from here," and he went off into the train station. I continued on to work, and started hearing sirens.
Was she dead? I don't know. And I'm never going to know. And it bothers me a little -- but not very much. And it bothers me a little how little it bothers me -- but not very much.
I know I'm not heartless, or uncaring. But I live in a city. And there's half a million people around here, and I can't care about them all personally. And, well -- I worked on a suicide hotline. They train you to care about people while you're there, and then let it all go when the call's over.
We have police officers. And I didn't just leave it at, "Someone else has called, or will call, the police." I told a police officer what the situation was, and let him handle it.
When I came home from work, there was no indication that there had been any sort of disturbance.