Dark - E. D. James

It was dark before Julka left the apartment. The stolen day to herself had left her feeling rejuvenated but lonely by the end. As much as she wanted Arnold out of her life, she was used to having someone around and she knew getting used to the solitary life would take a bit of time. The streets were shiny from the streetlights reflecting off the water from the light rain that had fallen all afternoon. The air tasted fresh and alive. There was a Friday night hum in the air. A woman carrying bags from two of the shops on the street smiled as Julka caught her eye. A young boy holding his mothers hand as they waited at the stoplight squished his pudgy fist at her in greeting. Three guys in their twenties steamed past leaving the smell of burning bush in their wake.

She’d started her journey thinking she would head for one of the restaurants on the street to have a drink, maybe sit at the bar and eat. But as she passed the bright doorways and looked in at the packs of bodies jostling she lost her nerve and kept walking. The rain had lightened to just a gentle mist. Moisture gathering on her eyelashes refracted the lights creating crazy color patterns in her vision. She walked with an itch not knowing what would satisfy, only that she hadn’t found it. Russian Hill loomed and she kept on, climbing in the mist, the wheels of the cars splashing by on the street beside her. It felt as if she were joining a great pilgrimage to North Beach.

At the top of the hill the Bay Bridge gleamed with the great stream of cars carrying bodies into town for the Friday spawning ritual. She headed down into the fertile flow of Columbus and wandered through the tourists and lovers until she found herself at City Lights. The man in the pork pie behind the counter gave her a wink and she plunged down the cedar planks to the travel section in the basement.