On my way home to my apartment I come across a confusing scene on Flatbush Avenue. Several police cars and an ambulance have blocked off a side street, and there’s a line of police tape wrapping around the sidewalk, effectively barring pedestrian traffic. I pause when I arrive at the barricade, and a police officer beckons me to walk around. I do so, as to other confused pedestrians, who must negotiate the street clogged with rush hour traffic. What is the cause of this disruption? I notice that a crowd has gathered on the other side of the street near my building, so I cross, turn around, and follow the gaze of other onlookers to the second floor window of the building opposite. A Black woman in her fifties appears to have smashed out the window and is yelling and gesticulating with wild abandon. Bizarrely, she’s topless, and her pendulous breasts swing behind the shards of glass left in the window frame. People around me exhibit a wide range of reactions to this disturbing scene: some have formed groups and are discussing/debating what’s going on or what should be done; others are shamelessly filming with their phones. A Caribbean woman near me starts reciting a prayer to Jesus. The first responders, for their part, seem resigned to waiting out the woman’s angry tirade. They stand around below with folded arms. Passing traffic slows, then speeds up again; people on their way to the subway pause to try to figure out what’s going on. I’m suddenly ashamed to be counted among the rubberneckers, and decide to leave. But just then the scene changes: the woman has become even more excited, and begins smashing the remaining shards of glass out with her bare hands, cutting herself in the process. There’s a child-guard on the window, and after she’s removed the glass she attempts to push it out. It won’t budge however, and after a few minutes of frustrated efforts she gives up and retreats back into the apartment. I wait a few minutes as the suspense builds, peaks, then dissipates. Ten minutes have passed without the woman reappearing. I finally decide to leave. Several hours I’m back to run an errand and I notice that the sidewalk has been swept clean, and the second floor window boarded up; apart from this there are no other signs of what has transpired such a short time ago.