It was still dark when I turned the corner and saw the woman lying on the ground. It was outside the transit station, and a few other early-morning commuters had slowed to see what was going on. Shared glances communicated our mutual concern for the young woman spread-eagled on the sidewalk. One man leaned over, peering down into her face.
“Miss? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
I pulled out my phone but heard a man nearby relaying specifics of our location. I pointed my phone at him–“911?”–and he nodded. I returned my attention to the young woman.
I knelt at her side. My first guess had been that she was drunk and passed out–the bushes lining the walk near the transit station are a habitual crash-point for Seattle’s homeless–but a closer look told me my first guess was wrong. (more…)
Like this:
Like Loading...
Read Full Post »