Regret

A Lady Dark Side chapter

"Are you going to eat that?"

"Hm-what?" I say, blinking my way out of the mental void I placed myself in.

"Are you going to eat that, ma'am?" I look at the speaker. Grungy. Smelled. Unkempt. I keep myself from sneering and calmly say, "Yes, I am."

"Okay. Have a nice afternoon." The man walks away down the street and I contemplate the plate of pasta that I don't plan on finishing. I made another snap judgement. Great. I look over my shoulder to see the man standing at an intersection. His head, heavy with thoughts, tilts down and his eyes focus on his shoes, I imagine. Sigh. I refocus on the the plate. Marinara sauce coats the bottom. Pasta fragments lay on top of the smears. And yet, to someone, that's a feast.

What do I need with food? I certainly don't have to eat it (and lord knows I tried that for three months.) I just like the way it tastes and I occasionally binge to regulate my weight. Greed. That's what it is. Fear of feeling awkward. That could also play into it.

Car horns blare and I hear what sounds like a car hitting a bag of cement. I don't bother turning around. I assume the worst.

"Someone call 911!" "I..I didn't see him...he must've just-" "Does he have any ID on him? Wallet? Cards?" "I swear...if I saw him, I would've stopped-" "Is someone calling an ambulance? You! You call!." "I don't have a cellphone..." "Sonofa-You! Can you call?" "Ya, sure...911." "No ID. Just some spare change and crumpled bills." "Figures. I doubt he would have any ID." "Is he still alive?" "I can feel breathing...but there's a lot of blood..." "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry-" "Spare shirts? Anyone? We need to put pressure on the wounds." "Which wounds? He has wounds all over his-" "I don't think he's breathing anymore-" "They're sending an ambulance now."

I came here looking for a nice lunch. But I don't deserve that. No, if I can't suffer, then I get to watch the people around me suffer. Great life. Some people would kill for my life now. I wouldn't be one of those people. No, know I get to see how my existence and my problems hurt other people. I get to sit here, stare at a plate of pasta that I won't finish, think about how the poor soul could be alive now if I just handed it and let him savagely eat it. What if this, what if that, sigh. It's all so pointless. If not today, then maybe tomorrow. Or the day after that. People all have expiration dates. How fortunate. They don't have to live with themselves for eternity.