Ben rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took off his navy blue sweater. The cashmere stuck to his chest and back as he stood to de-board the train. He walked down the metal steps onto the platform of North Station. The weather was warm for December. He made his way into the warmth and bustle of the Boston Garden and walked past an large poster of "The Big Three". After buying a pack of American Spirits (with a bite of guilt thrown in), Ben made his way back outside to the wind and sunshine. He lit his cigarette as he passed under Bobby Orr's shadow and glanced across the street at "The Harp". How many times had he dragged Sam out of there just before closing? "The Harp" always seemed to be missing a string when Sam was sitting at the bar. Ben was drawn back to those days with each drag on his cigarette. He abruptly tossed it to the ground as if he could stomp out the memories and ember simultaneously. Without a second thought he hailed a cab, climbed in and mumbled,.
"The Prudential Center." ".
9:21 PM EST.
Ben's mind was clouded. The previous night of tossing and turning in bed had done him no favors. This was a time when he needed to be fully alert. His gaze led him out the window to the blur of people and shops that blended into a confusing mix of color and shapes. "Could you slow down a little, and maybe take it easy with the turns? I'm feeling a little sick." " .
He whispered as he rolled down the smudged window and pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. "Whateva ju sah mane", the cabbie replied as the cool air hit Ben's face. .
They turned onto Boylston Street and as the gleaming glass of the Prudential Center came into view, Ben's breath became short and bated. His heart started to beat faster and his palms felt clammy . .
9:42 PM EST.
Ben pushed through the revolving glass door and walked to the escalator. He paused and briefly took in his surroundings. The woman in front of him was yelling obscenities into her phone in a thick Boston accent.