Miracles In December

(Chapter 3) Three Days Until Christmas

There are just those days in life where everything just goes wrong. I have no clue what luck I'm running on today, but it seriously has to come to an end before I lose my mind. It all started with one of my contact lens falling out of my eye in the middle of the streets and my terrible eyesight. 

I went from slamming my head into an extremely well cleaned glass door to stepping on dog shit to having some drunkard grope my ass. These are the times when I allow such profanities to run through my mouth.

I shiver in my jacket at the cold sudden breeze and stick my frozen hands in my pockets. The temperature, along with the chances of me staying alive, is intensely dropping throughout today, and it's only 11 A.M. It would be wonderful for both me and polar bears, if the weather is like this in Antarctica, and not here.

I blindly walk down the road of New York City, almost tripping on absolutely nothing, and decide to go get food. My stomach is nonstop rumbling and food would make my crappy mood a bit better.

As I cross the street, a man plunges towards me and rips my beat-up old bag out of my hands. I freeze for a second before I realize what in the world just happened.

"My bag! That man stole my damn bag!" I roar, chasing after him. Words cannot describe my boiling rage and if my life were to be in a cartoon, my head would literally have steam coming out of it right now. Who would steal a ragged bag like mine? It looks like it came from the dumpster!

It's not at all easy to chase after a man, who probably runs away with peoples' stuff daily, with heeled boots and blind eyes. What makes it worse is the heels of my boots suddenly decide to snap like a twig.

I saved up months of part-time job money for these damn boots and it decides to snap, especially at this moment!

Growling, I rip the shoes off my feet and continue to chase after the man in my ancient unicorn socks with a couple of holes. I could barely see him anymore; all I see is a little black blur far ahead of me.

"Someone stop that ASSHOLE!" I scream, directing it to everyone on the sidewalk. All eyes are on me and I could only imagine what I look like right now. The thing about New Yorkers is that they never stop for anyone. They're always in a hurry, for some reason- important or not.

Front ahead, I could the the black blur coming closer to view. I'm guessing my fury is boosting up my speed; my feet feel like the wheels of a motorcycle.

As I'm within hand reach with the bastard, life decides to play a trick on me. I don't know what it is, but I step on something- something sharp, and it pierces through my sock and left foot. I scream as I stumble onto the ground, scraping my hands and knees.

I could feel a bloody stinging sensation throughout my body to the point where I'm about to faint. Even so, I push my self back up, only to fall back down. My bag has everything- my wallet with all my money, my key to the hotel room and my Kit-Kat bar I bought this morning.

Before I know it, tears fill my eyes. Normally, I wouldn't be such a baby, but I'm feeling extra moody these days because it's that time of the month for me. People, especially men, should know not to bother a girl when she's going through a "bloody" time.

I should stop with the puns.

I continue to wail, in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring if I am now the center of attention. How can these people just let a girl, all scratched up and crying, stay on the sidewalk without helping? What heartless monsters!

I take a look at the bottom of my foot and scream as I see glass pieces wedged into it. What idiot leaves glass pieces on a sidewalk, knowing that someone is going to step on it? Well, on their behalf, normally, someone would be wearing shoes outside.