Who knows?

The day was today, people walking on the streets. They’re all going somewhere, I don’t have even a clue where. Some look stressed, others happy, some in a hurry, others in a lazy move. Cars pass by, bikes too. She had her schedule all set, for another day of work, or something else. How can a person foresee his or her day, and how is this person supposed to know what to do? These are things that are hard to tell, who knows what might happen? We are all so used to go out and in through the days that, sometimes, anything out of it looks so unusual at a point to disturb our whole thoughts. She was walking downtown, worried about her problems, thinking of how life could be better, maybe could’ve been in love, or maybe not. It were between a doctor’s and a professor’s street. I would never know how she was felling exactly, but somehow I think that she was having a good day, I don’t even know why. She was so lost in her thoughts that didn’t see, or probably did see that white van coming up one of the streets. It hit her, she fell. People started to gather to see what had just happened. Meanwhile, I was having my lunch, at a restaurant on the other side of the street, being, as usual, the slave of my routine, waiting for time to pass and enjoying a good meal. I could only see some people getting up from their tables to group near the window. Looks like something’s happened, I don’t know, my food is getting cold. She was lucky to have two doctors nearby, who stayed with her till the last moment. The bastard who had run her over escaped, even before she’d hit the ground. Policemen said they’d got him; he was drunk, and had gotten another person not far from there. This just proves my theory: people don’t measure their acts ever. She was there, on the ground, stains of blood all over. Her fingers were drenched by it, her and one of the doctor’s who was with her. Many people on the sidewalk, in the restaurant, in the stores, in the middle of the street, and everywhere else just checking what had happened. Some terrified, others confused talking to others, trying to understand it or inform the ones who hadn’t seen it. It was certainly a painful scene; but for some it was just something to talk about, or a reason to stop working. Here I aim to tell this kind of thing really messes with our thoughts, it happened to me. There were policemen and street guards, but no rescue. The ambulance got there fifteen minutes after the accident, and that is because we have a hospital two blocks down the street. Some said that in Porto Alegre it’d take just take five minutes. I, like many others, was relieved when hearing the siren approach. I was filled with compassion, hoping she could get better, and praying that she could, one day, forget all of this, and keep on with her life. I didn’t see her face, I just saw the blood. I left when the ambulance arrived, leaving everything behind, heading home, well, I got things to do, and probably, so had she. After all that, I don’t even know if she is alive.