I’ve never been much of a fighter.

There was this one time in middle school that I was smacked, but I hardly count that as a real fight since it ended with me giggling uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of the situation. But yesterday… a fight went down.

I was walking along minding my own business on the way to print out the equivalent of an entire textbook, and

The sidewalk tripped me, picking a fight.

Such an affront would usually be when my ninja-like skills would kick in, and I would steady myself in a big “YEAH RIGHT” to the sidewalk,

but I was so shocked at the normally friendly object taking a turn for the worst that I went down.

I went down hard.

And that wasn’t enough… the sidewalk then scraped both my hands, both my knees, and slammed my head into its chest scraping up my face. I was a mess, and to make matters worse there was a group of people walking near me that didn’t stop! They looked back, scoffed, and kept walking.

So here I am mortally wounded with perhaps a small concussion, and I am but a laughable excuse to even stop.

It all became much better, though, when my friend gave me designer, sparkly bandaids. Even at 21, those make life so much better.


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