There was a shooting outside my apartment last night.
Right across the street. Next to the Laundromat and some fried chicken place.
I could see everything from my bedroom window.
Police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, people screaming, people standing and watching, yellow caution tape, police searching for a gun in the piles of snow, a man being lifted into an ambulance on a gurney, a yellow tarp covering a dead body on the sidewalk.
My roommate says she’s not that surprised. Surprised that it happened outside of where we live. We live in a relatively “safe” neighborhood in West Harlem. But she still wasn’t that surprised. That’s New York for you.
The Laundromat owner says he’s surprised. That this type of thing never happens here.
My other roommate wants to move. She no longer feels safe. If her parents find out, she’ll for sure have to move out. That’s the last thing we want.
My 3rd roommate says that what was happening was awesome. She has a little bit of trouble grasping reality and the feelings of others. Maybe its a lack of empathy thing. One roommate refers to her as a sociopath. I wouldn’t necessarily go that far.
My 4th roommate didn’t hear a thing. Neither the commotion outside or the commotion the rest of us were making inside, huddled by the window, watching the scene unfold.
I had heard about plenty of shootings that have happened in New York, or in any place for that matter. But you never really think that it will happen to you. That you would be a witness to something so horrific. But it did happen to me. The question is, where do we go from here?
Full NY Times Article below: