I pick up my pace, passing a few shops, many of which are boarded up. A convenience store and a few more by-the-hour hotels come into view before I’m crossing the road and guessing my way through the maze of streets, hoping that I am heading toward the water. It will be nice to watch the sunrise from the edge of Queens, even with the planes flying in and out of JFK Airport scattering across the sky.

I make it exactly two blocks before I realize that I am lost. Stopping, I wander down the street to try and catch my breath. Running is the only thing that has gotten me through the past few years, but my stamina is not what it used to be, so the walk is a welcome reprieve. Glancing left, then right, I curse myself for not bringing a map or my phone, or even looking at one before I left. I will definitely need to think more clearly from now on, living in the city.

With the faint glow of the morning sun, I begin down the street, on a mission to find a shop that may be open to ask for directions. Sunrise is certainly different here than back home in Oklahoma. I can’t really see much through the buildings. But I wanted an adventure; that is the whole point of being here, and after only an hour in this place, I realize that’s most certainly what I have got.

I spot some people gathered down the street and decide I’ll ask them for directions. Sprinting off with renewed enthusiasm, I pay little attention to what they are doing, but as I get closer, I see that they are all men. My step falters, and I begin to slow my pace, as they look aggressive even at a distance. But I have nowhere to turn without it looking suspicious, my red hair high in a ponytail swishing back and forth as I come to a stop. I’m unsure of what my next move should be. Maybe I could still ask for directions and then just keep running… a lot faster?

As I open my mouth, about to speak, I hear a popping sound, along with screams of terror as gunfire goes off all around us.

I stand rooted to the ground, too scared to move. My feet feel like they are encased in cement, and my heart thumps right out of my chest. Is this the way I am going to meet my maker? Is this it? Right here on the streets of New York, is this how it will end for me? My mind is telling me to move, but my body is so stiff, I can’t; my legs won’t budge, and my glazed eyes don’t leave the mess of men and blood. This can’t be happening…