It's been almost two weeks since I've been in the city but here we are. Waiting for BART. On the walk from the apartment, I was a bit hesitant. What would happen when I was back at the spot where it all happened that Monday night? I figured I'd be okay. But as I walked closer to that intersection, I could feel myself tightening up. There it was. The curb. Where my scooter blindly hit and I was thrown off suddenly and I smacked my mouth into the ground. The wires on my teeth are a daily reminder of what happened.
I swear I thought I'd be fine. But I was suddenly weighed down by emotion. I wasn't ready to face all the suffering from that fall. My eyes started to water up and I couldn't believe I was crying in public. I could tell some passerbyers wanted to comfort me but I bolted off before...
Well, none of that actually happened but I often like to be overly dramatic in this head of mine. Truth is, I'm meeting the wife downtown after working from home today. I actually thought it would be cool to see traces of blood on the sidewalk from that nasty spill of mine but no such luck. Oh well... can't wait to be back in SF again.
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