The street is full of cars and so many people are streaming across the crosswalks that they're going nowhere. I can see some of the drivers impatiently tapping their steering wheels. A lady in a red Volvo is in the lane nearest the sidewalk and me. She looks straight at me, smiles, and then gets out of her car and walks over. She stands a couple of feet away with her head cocked to one side. Her fingers play up and down the buttons of her coat as if following a tune on a Dvojanka flute. She sits down next to me, now playing her imaginary flute on the air. The pedestrians finish crossing, the light turns green, and she hums. Her car is in the middle of the street, other drivers are yelling, and she hums. It's an airy sound. I liken it to the sound of a rush of water or the flapping of a rush's wings.

"We should get going," she says, finishing her song, "We should go along together to Somewhere."

I watch cars go around the Volvo, a few have already called the police. These folk are so depressing. They can't stop and ask why. They won't stop to ask why she has abandoned her car. They think she is mad. They have places to go and she is ruining their schedules.

A woman dressed in a blue business suit in a white SUV flashes us the finger as she maneuvers around the car. Her children look out at us, being taught to do the same when they're older. The wind picks up and stray cups, wrappers, and old newspapers whip past us. I absentmindedly kick a crushed Dixie cup into the gutter and, resting my hand for a moment on the warm concrete bench, decide that I may not have places to go but I have Somewhere to be.

"Yes, it is hot here," I say, then looking out, "It is cold"

We take each other's hand, her laughing as she starts to hum a cheery tune and me feeling the wind take my scarf and pull at it and pull back. I untie it, I let it go, and I hum as it flutters off behind me.