They were really going for it, right there in the middle of the street. She was reaching for something, flailing. Sometimes she kicked at him and her too-short skirt would ride too high. For his part he was trying to keep her at bay, stop her from getting whatever it was. She was all yells and distress. I didn’t know what to do – should I call the police? Intervene? Or, do what I did, which was nothing. I watched, felt awkward, wondered why it felt almost thrilling to see two people fighting in public, and what did that say about me and the rest of the crowd who watched and also did nothing. Later I wished I’d take photos of it. Not out of a desire to exploit but to document. To witness. I walked away.