Jonathan shuffled out some dollar bills and coins from his wallet, and handed them to the man in the ticket booth. I stuck out my hand, gently putting Jonathan’s wallet back in his coat pocket, and gave the man my own money, paying for mine, and Jonathan’s train tickets. Jonathan’s cheeks flushed a bit but he gave me a grateful smile. I didn’t need to explain to him that I had enough money to buy everyone here a train ticket, he knew, and he accepted it. Just how I accepted that he didn’t have enough money for either of us.

We climbed on to the train and walked into a car of plush red velvet seats and wooden walls. Jonathan swept his hand gallantly and said in his best voice, “Right this way Miss Emaline.”

“Why thank you sir,” I said taking his hand, helping myself to the window seat. Jonathan plopped down next to me. I could smell the smoke from his cigarettes on his heavy winter jacket but I didn’t mind. He wore gray pants, and his work boots with scuffs on the toes and one shoelace was untied.

“So where are we going to this time?” I asked him, leaning into his shoulder.

Jonathan flashed his bright smile at my enthusiasm and said, “I think we’re going to Boston.”

“How grand!” I exclaimed. Jonathan slipped his dark skinned hand into mine and held it firmly, but gently.

After 20 minutes of riding with the train, bumping into each other’s sides, we reached Boston and the conductor yelled for everybody to get off. I looked out the window of our car and saw hundreds of faces, numerous buildings, and endless opportunities.

We ran off into the snowy streets of Boston, consumed by a crowd of cold, hostile people. It felt like we were the only ones with joy there. We bought kettle corn from a vendor on the sidewalk and munched on the pieces as we walked, amazed by all the tall buildings looming over us. Snowflakes gently drifted from the sky, giving a romantic touch to everything. Jonathan pulled out his harmonica and played me songs and sang to me. The sound of his deep, smooth, voice gathered a crowd of people that clapped with the music, and he sang louder and louder, clearly letting all the attention go to his head.

“You think people think we’re crazy?” Jonathan asked me.

“Why would they think that?” I asked sweetly.

“Because, why on Earth would a girl like you, spend her afternoon in the big city Boston, with a guy like me,” he boasted, gesturing around at all the hustle and bustle of the city.

“I’m not sure,” I paused, looking down at our shoes, “I guess you’re going to have to find out.” I stood on my toes to match Jonathan’s height, and kissed him. His lips were warm and comforting in such cold weather.

Eventually the sun dipped down behind the tall skyscrapers, and we made our way back to the train station. Boston was dangerous at night so we quickly hustled down the now quiet streets. A figure of a man emerged from beneath the shadows and walked too closely to Jonathan. He was wearing dirty clothing, his pale skin illuminated in the dark. Before I had the chance to do something, the pale man pulled the trigger and the bullet swam through Jonathan’s skin, as he crumpled to the ground. Just as swiftly this wicked man appeared, he vanished back into the shadows.

“Jonathan!” I horrifically screamed, watching him fall, as if everything were in slow motion. I dropped to my knees and caressed his face, looking down by his stomach where the bullet went through. There was blood pooling out- so much blood.
Jonathan gripped at his side and grunted with pain, “Damn this world.”
Tears welled in my eyes once I figured out what was happening, and what was going to happen. I stroked his cheek and lied, “Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t you worry, you’ll be just fine.”
Jonathan slowly blinked his eyes and whispered something. “What?” I asked through my tears, “What did you say?”
“I love you,” he gasped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body went limp. The grip he had had on my hand was gone, the life sucked out of his body. My tears hit his bloody chest.
“Help!” I screamed, leaning back on my heels, “Please, somebody help!”
But nobody would help a black man.