Manhattan, 11th avenue, they call it the avenue of death. There's a strange intersection there where many roads connect, and there’s accidents so often no one even cares anymore. People are busy, all they know to do is look forward, no time to look both ways, and boom, next thing they know they’re just one of the many on death avenue. 

Every morning, 6 o clock sharp, I’d be out of my apartment and already walking along the edge of death avenue. Cars would zip by me, just feet away, blowing up the edges where my clothes didn't fit tightly and blowing my own cigarette’s smoke into my eyes. It was a walk to the bus stop, then a little ride down to work. 

I didn't have to wake up at six o clock. Work opened up at 9, and the bus ride was only about an hour.

Just about every day though, I had to make a stop at this little park. It was right by this deli where I’d grab a bagel to eat on a bench by the playground where the kids were. There were those colorful monkey bars and slides and this giant climbable caterpillar. 

I hoped the parents didn't think I was a creep. I'd sit down and throw some crumbs at pigeons, and admittley, I'd find myself watching the kids play around.I liked seeing the mothers help them up the fireman pole and the dads push them on the swings. Mind you, I couldnt fucking stand actually taking care of kids, but something about watching them play early in the moring over breakfast and before work made me feel so relieved. Relieved of what, I was never quite sure, I just knew it was one of the things I looked forward to the most, and it always  felt like a break. Maybe it was like I was playing and having fun through them. After I finished eating I’d usually take the next bus all the way to work. 

I was usually the first one there and I’d open up. We had this pretty all glass building. It was getting close to Christmas, so the lights combined with the rain's splatters on it sort of made me feel like I was in some sort of little display case. 

I worked 8 hour shifts, 9-5 like most people did. I had an hourly pay, but the majority of my income came from commissions, being how much I was able to sell.

That day, I wasn't too busy, and Ben stopped by to say hello. 

Up until I was old enough to move out at around 14, I lived with Ben. Afterwards, I still went to the same high school as him. He was fairly tall and as dark as molasses. Though his physical features were pretty recognizable, he always, and I mean always, smelled like weed. Really, that was the way you knew he walked into a room. 

Today he came in, and oddly enough, he didn't smell like weed at all. He pulled up a chair and sat across from my conference desk. 

“Oh yes yes Mr. Salesman,” he said to me jokingly. “Are you gonna show me some phone plans or not? Ya fucking Crook.”

I laughed and hugged him. It had been a while since I last saw him, a few months. He looked so much healthier. The pimples I'd seen him with not so long ago were clear, and his face was as sharp and soft as marble. He actually smelled like some sort of cologne, and he was much more smiley than usual.

“How are you brother?” I asked him, looking him up and down. He stuck his hands to the side like to say “take a look at me.”

“I am swell, to say the least. I'm feeling a lot better man, it's great. How are you? I see you havent gotten fired yet. There haven't been any Kerplunk incidents so far it seems like.”

Kerplunk was this thing we used to do in school. In essence, it involved smashing a school administered carton of milk on someone's head hard as fuck, then running away before they saw. 

I laughed at the thought and shook my head. Looking back, I noted something under his chin, a shiny gold necklace. 

“Nah, none of that, and is that a gold plated necklace Ben? Where are you working now?”

He held it up with his thumbs, flashing it at me. “Gold plated? No sir, this is the real deal”

I was a bit suspicious. There was a place called canal streets were some pretty sophisticated pieces of jewelry were made. I reckoned he must have gotten it there. 

“So what, you sold good or something?”

His smile faded, and he tucked his chain back into his shirt. He did a quick glance around, the looked down at his shoes as he smoke. 

“Nah, im not selling anymore man. Maybe I can let you know some other time, its sort of like a um. Like a new job. Anyways brother, how are sales? You still as good as you always were?”

Ben was a lot like me when it came to hustling. We worked together on every piece of side cash we could when we were younger. His mom Diane, whom I love as my own mother, worked as a secretary. Occasionally, went rent money was short, me and him would sell whatever we could to get some quick cash. When we were in about 10th grade, that “whatever” turned into Cannabis Marijuana. As far as I knew, he never stopped, until, apparently, this point. 

I told him about how it was going, about my commute, about how I would stay at the park sometimes and he expectedly called me a future sex offender. We talked for a good 20 minutes, and it felt good to talk to someone about something that wasn't cell phones for the first time in a long time. He told me about how Diane was doing, and how she’d gotten some sort of lung problem and was on oxygen now. 

“Holy shit, you serious? And her insurance?”

“We had to switch, there was some sort of error, we got to pay a big part of it. They tanks last about a day or so each.”

I shook my head. Insurance companies were such bullshit.

“I dont know how you guys are paying that shit, but Im gonna send you a bit to help out.”

I took my phone out to send them, but he out his hand over mine. 

“Nah man, dont worry about it. We’re doing okay now, so far all our expenses are doing good.”

“Yeah, hell no, I already sent you $800, tell Dee Dee its from me. No way you guys are paying that and the rent alone. Its the least I could do, don't even sweat it.”

He grimaced. I could tell he was uncomfortable with my help, and I understood him. But he needed to understand that I owed Diane just as much as he did, if not more. 

“I’ll stop by and visit sometime, im just like 2 hours away its nothing. Tell her ill come by one of these days-”

“Hey!”

A voice interrupted from the back. 

Me and Ben both turned to the voice. 

“Sorry to interrupt here gentleman but were in here trying yo buy a phone, can we get some service?”

I got up and told a worried looking Ben it was good to see him, and then looked back at the asshole who interrupted me. 

He looked about 50, and was short and thinning. With him were three other guys poking around at some cell phones on the stands. 

“Yes, sorry about that, I’ll be right with you” I said to them.