OneWord is a exercise in brevity. Sixty seconds, one word, go. That word is "blocks."
If she walks fast enough, she thinks, the past will fade from her view, her memory. So she walks at a New York clip, face shielded with a cheap black umbrella picked up from a hawker outside the subway stop. Heels click on cracked pavement, speedy and with purpose, down long avenue blocks. The crowds won’t deny her the purpose. She walks. She needs to walk. The past is there, catching up.