I was crossing the road and almost got run over by a car. The guy had been driving like there was a knife to his neck. It was dark out, a few meters from my dorm.
I was scared.
And after he had gone his way, offering many apologies, I was pissed.
The car was quite small, those hunchback types that I wondered if the passengers could feel the whole length just sitting in.
I don’t know how it felt that such a car almost hit me. It could have been a Ferrari. It could have been Tom Cruise behind the wheel. It could have been Dora the Explorer with her beloved pet monkey, I won’t care. That would have been such a tell-tale experience.
It could have been Rihanna. It should have been Rihanna. It should have been Rihanna with her new album out (yes!).
But it wasn’t.
I stood from the platform where I had been sitting, overlooking the road and shook my head. Did I just sit out here in the sunshine, imagining a frightening experience? Did I just look for more excitement in my head because my energy bar only went up when homework was less, and so I knew the bar was in hell?
Paula, damn.
That was what happened when the worst you could remember ever happening to you was a paper cut – and you keep a first aid box on your desk just in case.
