a day off

My gaze focused on the beads of ice building up on the windows, breaking through to the inside. And then to the steam rising off the high rise buildings in the distance. To say today was a cold winter day in Minneapolis was an understatement. It was bone chilling cold. It’s the type of cold that has thick tendril like fingers that wrap around your arms, your legs and braze your face as if not wanting to let go.

But it was Saturday at least. A day off of work. A day off from the grind. A day for myself. And what better way to start a freezing, arctic-like day than with a donut and a hot cup of coffee?

The only problem was that I had to go outside for a brief minute or two to cross the street to my favorite donut shop. It was worth it.

I sighed as I put on my stocking cap, scarf, long coat and mittens. It took just as much time to put on all these layers as it did to get my donuts. But the thought of perfectly glazed donuts filled with a rich raspberry jelly made me lick my lips.

Okay, we’re doing this, I told myself as I tugged on my boots.

I locked the door of my apartment and hurried down the stairs to the main level.

The second I opened the door to the sidewalk I was greeted with a bitter -15 degree breeze that numbed my face, and shriek, high-pitched whistles that echoed across the neighborhood.

I felt my heart stop for a second. ICE. They were in my neighborhood. Of course they were.

There were a mix of apartments nearby and restaurants owned by people of color. Small businesses that I loved to support. People I loved to see, just like the owners of the donut shop.

I hated seeing some of them close temporarily over the last several weeks in fear that ICE would raid their place of business, raid their livelihood.

I breathed in deeply trying to shake that thought from my head. But the sorrow and the heartbreak were heavy as I listlessly crossed the street, head down.

The whistles grew louder as I approached the shop.

I looked to find where the sound was coming from – in the middle of the street in front of a donut shop.

There was a small crowd forming.

Men in camouflage with guns appeared in the middle of the street.

A man with dark hair, glasses and a camel colored jacket had his phone in his hands facing the camouflaged men as he looked to be directing traffic.

The men were talking to a young woman in a whitish gray coat.

A knot started forming in my throat.

Not again. Not here, I thought.

I paused for a second, wanting to race for cover inside the donut shop.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off the street.

I couldn’t take my eyes off what happened next.

Two men approach the dark haired man, getting in his face.

Then they shoved the woman, she fell into the snow.

I desperately wanted to help.

I desperately wanted to stop this.

The dark haired man tried to intervene, tried to help, but he was sprayed with pepper spray.

More pepper spray.

It lingered in the air.

My eyes started to sting, burn.

I rubbed them but it only got worse.

My vision blurred, the cold and the spray mixing, my eyes layered in an icy cobweb that clouded everything in front of me.

I looked away, gasping, trying to clear them, trying to breathe.

When I looked back, he was no longer moving.

He just laid there.

Motionless.