Another excerpt from my working novel!

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ART AS A NOVEL
By
GALE FULTON ROSS

Taxis’ and cars honked in the language of Babel, the color of cab
yellow filled her peripheral vision, Paynes gray in light, medium
and dark showed ahead in the form of tall buildings against
a bluish- stone colored sky. Sidewalks blurred on the left and
right with colorful images of people as they pranced on the
treadmills of their own lives. Rolling down the window in the
cab gave breezy wings to the buzz she felt in her head. It was
an overcast Summer day in the City, balmy and alive with a
Broadway concerto of street sounds being conducted by the
rhythm of her rapid breath. Maggie wondered , are they happy,
are they content, have they found peace as she watched hordes
of people hurriedly cross in front of the cab making their way
to ‘somewhere.’

The cab soon pulled up to her studio on 17th Street between
8th and 9th Avenue. He had given her money for the driver and
herself. Walking slowly up the stairs to her third-floor
walkup she suddenly felt very tired and very drunk. “ I need to
lie down.” Opening the heavy, antiquated wooden
door was always a task, she immediately dropped her bag and
keys on the side table full of opened and unopened mail. Maggie
tripped across the dark- paint-spattered hardwood floor to her
Murphy bed thankful that it was in the down position and fell
backwards vertically crumpling the sheets around her. It was 3:30
in the afternoon. She awoke to the telephone at 9:15 in the
evening…it was him.