End of the Line

'Last stop! Get off my streetcar ya dumb kid!'

The driver practically shoved me down the steps. I could not understand his anger, driving a train through the city sounds like fun.
It was colder here than downtown. The wind was harder. Chilly air from the lake went through my bones. Mom did tell me to pack an extra sweater. I hate when parents are right.
I didn't know where I was. I'd asked the driver where Eastern and Woodfield was but he snorted at me. This place was some weird spot where the streetcar tracks loop behind some Deco fortress. Now my friend with the latest game was waiting somewhere and I was here, wherever that is. This sucks.

The wind bites my face. It howls along these strange buildings, taking it's time to feed on me. I start walking back the way I came. The other way darkens and closes up, like to swallow my future. In my future hopefully I can find someone seeing I am lost and directing me towards my waiting friend. Or a streetcar driver with a smile. But now it's cold and I am so alone in this worn unknown town. In the distance way ahead is the tower, the shiny city world where I came from. Here I am a stranger and I hide my face to the passersby. The sooner I can grow outta here the better.