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the waiting room Ascending with the lightness of a parkour master, Cheryl was spit out from the subway entrance and onto the streets of the 9-to-5 world. Dashing past tie-wearing businessmen with heads full of finance, she ran down Broad St. towards the water. The smell of salt and deceased fish that wafted through the air told her she was getting closer. Bolting across the streets, Cheryl wove expertly through a gridlocked pattern of yellow taxicabs and black Lincolns. Glancing at her watch as she edges nearer the maritime building lavishly adorned in ornaments of greens and pinks. With a ticket in hand she flies through the waiting room. Only a minute to go as she handed her ticket to the attendee. Securing a coveted spot at the back of the ferry. The soft rocking of the boat eased her heart rate down. The fog horns sounded a deep, flat note as the ferry pushes off and away from Manhattan. The old battered wooden seats provided a moment’s relief to Cheryl’s aching limbs. She was never much of a marathon runner. But before she could even regain her breath, the floodgates opened and a swarm of people was released onto the soil at Governors Island. Stepping foot on solid ground, the air of spring caught her attention and pulled her into a lush garden of blooming flowers and tall trees. Trees older and wiser than the surrounding buildings. Turning for a moment to look at the city she left behind. Sailboats whizzed by her sightline. Folks frolicked carelessly aboard while a world of worker bees, chained to desks, sat on the big island just a few yards away.
Strolling past fortresses that hold deep dark secrets of war <strong>stories</strong> past, Cheryl made her way through a world unlike the one less than 1000 yards away. The island was an empty shell. There was no life in this place, save for the racially ambiguous father-son duo, which, almost too conveniently, happened to be playing Frisbee in a wellmanicured lawn. In the distance, a group of hippie-like hipsters sat weaving together a useless teepee. She felt the slow rock of the boat come back to her as she awoke she realized she’s still in the waiting room. Ticket clenched in her fist.
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Page 3 and 4: to pierce through to his brain. The
Page 5 and 6: Slowly, over time, the city had cre
Page 7 and 8: Escape the hustle and bustle of the
Page 9 and 10: lunch atop a skyscraper a goliath o
Page 11: that someone hasn’t tried. Yes, t

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