Boston Midnite

She pulled the zipper of her jacket all the way up to her neck; it was a chilly night after two full days of gray skies and rains. She could see the stars now, it was clearing up. She inhaled the cold humid midnight air, feeling a delayed but desired rush of blood to her brain. She was thinking about every thing: the dish she had had earlier, the book she had recently read, the movie her friend had just told her she had gotten, the posting she had started to write, the heart she felt racing lately, the prayers she had said earlier, the universe that had arranged this all, ... She was thinking about every thing, but nothing, to escape the one thought: what had she got to do?
She buried her fingers deeper into her jeans, raising her head again to look at the sky, feeling the cold of her tear on her right cheek, one eye shedding, one drop.
What was happening? How were things changing? How things were going to get fixed? Was there any thing to get fixed? What if? What if not?
She found herself at the gate, no one was around. She got herself a locker, changed, and dived into the pool.