CHOCOLATE DAYS MARGARITA NIGHTS

Shay Caldwell hurried down the front steps into the growing crowd of workers and shoppers that always fill Manhattan sidewalks.  She was in the mood to enjoy a leisurely stroll to work when she realized that she’d drawn a crowd of paparazzi.  She increased her pace but they kept up with her.  Behind her she heard them calling out questions to her but she ignored them and walked even faster.

It was a warm morning, humid too, and perspiration beaded across her upper lip.  As she wiped it away she looked over her shoulder to see that she was still being followed, cameras clicked and flashes flashed in spite of the already bright sunlight.  Enough, she thought.

“Taxi.”  She raised her right arm to signal.  The yellow car whizzed past her.  “Taxi!”  This time she said it louder and moved a couple of steps farther into the street.  A bright yellow taxi screeched to a halt just inches from her.  She jumped in and slammed the door. 

 “Shamerson Psychiatric Hospital” and hurry.  She slid off the seat and crouched on the floorboard mopping the perspiration from her face with a dainty linen cloth; a hankie left for her many years ago by her mother.  Perspiration caused from the blazing late summer heat roastingManhattan like a chestnut plus the mad dash to escape the media left her wet as wilted spinach just taken from a hot water bath