Christine looked a lot like Marisa Tomei, but with a slight, but cute, overbite. She favored black mini skirts and high heels. She liked to turn on the construction guys as she walked to her office in Manhattan. After all, she grew up in Jersey and her sister still lived there.

Christine never got over 9/11. It was a particularly vicious attack on her beloved borough and she suffered respiratory problems for years afterwards. She was already prone to hibernating in her Brooklyn apartment with her cat Mr. Peepers but now she did it for days at a time. For a Jersey girl she was kind of shy and retiring.

But today was a crisp fall day and she felt good. A few blocks down from NBC she came upon a cop wearing a massive bullet proof vest with the bright letters of “NYPD EMERGENCY SERVICES”, and on top of that he fondled a major gun in his big hands. Christine was sure it was a machine gun, one of those AK somethings.

She decided to keep walking.

A little farther down the street was a big van that said NYPD BOMB SQUAD. And six or seven more vested and armed cops.

She saw a woman leaning over some kind of railing.

“Lady, what’s going on here?”

“It’s Rosh Hashanah. Don’t you know my dear.?”

She looked up and realized it was the Union Temple. Aha, she thought.

More battle dressed warriors greeted her, so she stopped and went up to them.

“You guys are really scaring me.”

They were in deep skyscraper shade and a chilly wind blew right up Christine’s dress so that she visibly shuddered.

“Sorry ma’am, necessary precautions.”

They stared at her pale legs while she tried to respond, but instead walked on to her office. But she was too upset to do much and decided to catch the subway back home to Brooklyn. She stood on the platform and a loud announcement suddenly startled her.

“THERE ARE NO TRAINS TO BROOKLYN AT THIS TIME!”

Christine doubled over like she just took a hit to the stomach. She staggered over to sit on a bench. Chilly sweat began to roll down her forehead.

“Shit.”

She kept repeating that, like a mantra.

She made her way up to the street and hailed a cab, fell into the back and felt somewhat relieved. The Pakistani cab driver seemed very nice and normal as he made small talk, but his fixated stare in the rear view mirror troubled her.