Blood Pressure Rising

Aw man, crap, no. Nononononono....big exhale, that's right, just breathe out....Adam was having a minor coronory. He hadn't seen Jane in years. Wait, what was she doing back in town? That couldn't have been her, no. Holy guacomole it's a tofu inferno. Woah. Adam realized he had come to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk at 5 pm, a downstream barricade in the midst of the upflow of mad commuter traffic heading frantically towards the suburban trains. A domino effect of bouncing businessmen, briefcases flailing, suit jackets creasing, stacked up behind him. Sorry, sorrysorrysorry. Damn. Adam stepped flush to the tower wall, a pink hued shade of granite, still emanating heat from basking in the midday sun. He searched down the stream of bobbing heads and shoulders shuffling, trying to remember what Jane was wearing, if it really was Jane. That gait, the set of her shoulders, the way she created a bubble around her, even in a crush of bodies. She claimed space. Eight years on and just the idea of running into her causes an arythmia in his heart, does a number on his entire cardiopulmonary system. Talk about an adrenaline jolt. Freefall. This must be what mainlining heroin feels like, he thought. Drop in, drop out, explode.  My drug, my crack, my addiction. His head was pounding, mouth dry, palms sweating. He slowly slid down the building's facade and squatted against the wall, turning his cheek against the pebbled surface, forcing himself back into the present, feeling the hardness, the immovability of the foundation against his soluble, crumbling self.