I stepped out on my lunch break today to take photos because I only had a few exposures left, and I wanted to drop off the roll at the one-hour photo at the Walgreens in the Empire State Building. “One-hour” isn’t entirely accurate; sometimes it’s more like three. But it’s in the Empire State Building, where thousands of photos are taken every day, in its underbelly, on top, and on all sides, so I have to cut them some slack. “Just anytime before five,” I always tell her. The girl in the photo department knows me now, which is a rare comfort in this city. She always smiles and says, “Hi Ashley,” and I tell her the usual (just a CD, no prints, I’ll decide what I want to print, if anything, later), and I walk out without a claim ticket and head back to my desk, comforted by my small exchanges with her.
A friend told me today that he was taking a nap, and he awoke to the sound of his dog barking. One minute later, the earthquake happened. I like to think that my instinct to stop in the middle of Broadway is an indication that I sensed that something strange was about to happen, but really, I was just happy to be away from my desk.
I didn’t feel a thing.
