Evan Zavada

Short Story 1

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL

The next day, I found a needle on the front lawn with a bright orange cap
over the sharp part. Had one of them tossed it out there for when they got back from
the hospital or so the police wouldn’t find it in her apartment? Or had it fallen out of
her hand or pocket as they carried her to the ambulance? She was in no condition to
be leaving needles for later; you’d think she wouldn’t want to do it any more after
what happened, if she was even still alive. But that day after I got home from class,
the atrium stunk like cigarettes again, and when I walked out to the basement door
for my laundry, her window was open. In November, no less. As I walked back
across the lawn, I stared at the needle sitting amongst the grass, bright orange
amidst dead green and brown. How had the paramedics or the cops not seen it? I
thought carefully, went inside for my gloves, went outside for the needle, and put it
in the neighbor’s trash can. What a difference a wall makes.