Quantum flash

The prompt was "quantum".


"This could go either way, friend."

I paused mid-stride and looked at him. Male, mid-forties, matted beard framing gaps in yellowed teeth. He was sitting in front of the First National Bank on a piece of cardboard, which he shared with a crumpled burger wrapper and an empty paper cup. His extended palm was stained with dirt.

"Please, lady," he said, widening his fingers. I wavered, undecided, then settled on refusal.

"Sorry, sir," I said, firmly and politely. I walked on down Q Street, past the McDonald's, the convenience store, the check cashing outlet with its plywood-covered windows. The sky flickered as if a vast, dark bird had sailed across the sun.

Pain in my chest. I pressed my hand against my coat and closed my eyes. I seemed to see my age-streaked heart, alone in its cathedral of ribs and flesh. Like my mother, alone in her coffin. Mortality...

The moment of vertigo passed. My heart beat on serene, immortal once more. The sky hung bright and cloudless above the First National Bank, where a homeless man was sitting on a piece of cardboard.

"This could go either way, friend," he said, extending his hand.