Maybe Another Time… (A San Francisco Story) PART 5 FINALE!

Abraham Woodliff
2 min readNov 1, 2019

Every time Destiny went into Golden Gate Market, the floor was sticky. It was as if someone decided as a way to play a cruel prank on the store’s owner, they’d pour soda all over the floor, let it sit for an hour, and then return to dry it with dirty bath towels, so the floor would make a nauseating squelch noise anytime a customer would take a step. She walked over to the refrigerated section to grab a can of iced tea: squelch, squelch, squelch! She walked back to the counter: squelch, squelch, squelch!

“Anything else?” Asked the man behind the counter.

“Yeah, some magnums,” She casually replied, as she turned back to the aisle to grab the condoms.

squelch, squelch, squelch!

“Oh, I guess someone’s a big boy,” He said with a faux-humorous tone in an attempt to disguise how uncomfortable he was.

“They all want to feel that way, I guess.” She replied

The awkward pause made the squelches seem louder.

He avoided eye contact for the rest of their interaction.

She paid and squelched back outside. She wasn’t in the mood to humor the clerk. A headache unlike anything she had experienced prior had plagued her. Her vision lacked clarity, yet she didn’t feel dizzy. Her eyes seemed to possess a thin filter that robbed everything around her of its natural definition. She continued down the street, although her legs were numb. She was walking, but it felt like a glide. Her body lacked sensation. The sidewalk acted as a conveyor belt, until it couldn’t. She collapsed onto the street. Her head hit the concrete hard enough for it to bounce. There was no pain. She felt the need to get up, but didn’t attempt to. Something told her to accept this. The pavement felt as comfortable as any bed she had ever slept on. She was tired. This was a chance to get some rest. Her consciousness faded.

A passerby saw her collapse and called an ambulance. When paramedics arrived, they checked her pulse. She was dead before they got there. One of the paramedics, Andrew, was a rookie and had worked less than a month. The neighborhood smelled his inexperience

“How long have you been a paramedic?” Asked one of onlookers.

“This is my second week.” Andrew replied with a tone that did little to mask his nerves.

“This your first dead body?”


“Well, don’t worry, kid. There’s always someone else around here to save. Maybe another time, kid! Maybe another time…”



Abraham Woodliff

Bay Area native, Hip Hop nerd, literature and poetry enthusiast, freelance writer, gamer, caffeine addict. Follow me on Twitter.