I was coming back from the bathroom, and I distinctly remember that I was all dressed up because we were having an assembly that day. I had on a nice white shirt that was probably cheap, but it was my nice white shirt.
Feeling a bit thirsty, I headed towards the school’s water fountain. Out of nowhere, a kid named Andres gave me a push from behind. It was completely unexpected, and the force sent me hurtling forward. The collision that followed was not pleasant. My lip ended up hitting the metal edge of the fountain nozzle hard enough to cause some bleeding. It’s a memory that sticks with me, much like how an animal caught off guard might feel in the wild—except in my case, the “wild” was the neighborhood where we grew up.
As you might imagine, my nice white shirt quickly became a white and red shirt, thanks to the blood from my injured lip. The strange part was that Andres wasn’t known for causing trouble or picking fights, and he hadn’t ever bothered me before. Somehow, on that day, my lip paid the price, and my nice shirt was ruined along with it.
Funny enough, I don’t really remember what happened afterward or if there were any consequences. What I do remember clearly is that moment when my white shirt was turned into a bloody mess all because of an unexpectedly rough encounter at the school water fountain.
Just a life long New Yorker sharing the journey through my lens. Please take note of a post’s date. The views I express here are subject to change and evolving as I grow and learn.
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