1

How would one know if a damsel is in distress? I felt a shiver run up my back. He's really getting in there. Why me? Why this time? Why of all days do I have to be witness to something so vile? "She isn't technically in distress if she isn't breathing," I whispered to myself. That's not funny, E. The man in the navy blue was good. Too good for this to be an accident. Too good for me to get away if I run. Too good if I say anything. Should I say something? 

I backed away slowly as the man in navy blue pulled the lifeless woman's head up from under the basin of water. She was dead, and I was a dead man walking if I got a call, as I realized that my phone isn't on silent. Mom told me not to take shortcuts in life. I assumed she spoke of things figuratively, but an alleyway downtown could be my demise, and that would be my final thoughts given to this world. 

What should I do, Wisdom? Can I call you that, since you and I are both witnesses to what is happening? Yes, you, the one reading as I jot my thoughts down and mark them in my brain. Wisdom is a good name, I wonder what her name was. The woman lying on the ground, still as the killer rolled her body in blue tarp to put in the trunk of some stolen sedan. 

Why blue, out of all the tarp colors in the world, why would anyone choose blue? He's also wearing blue... Wis, can you remember that for me? I might need that info later. And the car, black, no license plate. The woman, cold, but looking further, I could tell that she was kind. This stuff doesn't happen to bad people. Maybe that is why I am here watching, observing. 

Maybe I am next, and it will be my kind, game over. 

This isn't a game, E.

 I shake my head, making a grimace as I recognize that I am still here with the killer, and should probably call 911. I forgot, my phone isn't on silent. I know what you're thinking,  just turn it down, sadly no, I had to change my keyboard to that typewriter sound everyone uses, and unfortunately it's loud. Too loud for the situation I am in now.

Should I cause a distraction? What would that Batguy do in this situation? He probably would fight the man in blue. I wish I took a martial art when I was younger, but no, I had to learn piano. See Dad, jazz can't save me now.

 Can you save me Wisdom? Am I going to die?

 As I creep behind a trashcan, I can't help but hear a siren in the distance. Thank goodness for the police. Despite the social turmoil and constant injustice my people face, I am happy to hear that sweet screech coming closer. 

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"Police! Put your hands up!" I sigh in relief as I take another step back, but when I look up, there is no killer in sight. Just two cops, me, and a cold puddle on the ground where that damsel once laid. How did he even get away in the car that quickly? The man in blue. The man in navy blue. 

Gone.

2

"I didn't do anything," I dejected. You believe me, right? I mean, you were there with me, so why am I in this cold room, with these frigid people staring at me. 

Am I a suspect?

I'm not a killer, I even do my due diligence of letting ladybugs out of the house when they get in. Not spiders, though, because those are vicious animals. Again, this only seems to happen to kind people. Because something so cinematic as this can't happen to the bad guys. Right?

"Why were you in the alley, kid? Do you work with Mr. Q.?"

"Mr. Q.? Who even is that, and why is his name so lame?"

 Can that even be considered a name? 

"Plus, I was promised a phone call, and my lawyers will be hearing about this blatant discrimination against the youth." Why do I always get paired up with old people, like I was destined to encounter only those who never even try to see from my lens as if they weren't young and dumb before.

Just answer the question, kid. Why were you in the exact location as a notorious killer? "Notorious," I thought. Only the police would give such a profound word over to someone who murders in the middle of the day. "What makes you think I would associate with such a person? One, I don't have a motive, two I want my phone call."

3

"You believe me, right? Good. Now hand it over. I won," I cheese.

"Ugh, you always win our bets," yells Daniel. What a sore loser. "And now you hand it over." 

" Fine, but technically, you weren't being detained, just questioned," ejects Hope. 

" Ha. A technicality you say. Whatever. I will enjoy the smell of victory while you haters count your losses." 

Those are my friends Daniel and Hope. They are the cynical type and love to think that I will lose on one of our bets, one of these days, but that day is not today. 

 Who knew out of the three of us I would be the first to go to jail or be arrested. I always suspected Hope, because she was so far left it just felt right. As I grab my bag from the lecture hall and pocket the cash, I can't help but feel that there is something behind me. I turn around and look closer to the window. A shadowy figure passes by, and I can't catch anything but the color of his shoes. Blue.

There it is again. Wis, there is that color. What do you make of that? Me? 

I think it's a coincidence to think about for another time.