Afternoon bike ride to High Park.
Down Lansdowne, over the Dundas bridge to Howard Park.
You stop. I go.
Traffic coming down Dundas. I was careless I guess. Didn't look down, just into your eyes. Could read it on your face before gravity took over. But your eyes told a different story.
My wheel jammed in streetcar tracks. Down I went. Elbow first, then shoulder... Wham! followed by head. Lucky I was wearing a helmet, I guess.
Shock to the system, but all I see is the car getting closer. Wheels heading my way.
Jump up. Grab the bike and run to the curb. Embarrassment sets in before the blood starts to flow.
Scrapes and cuts up and down my arm; layer of skin left on the street.
Words flow fast looking for reassurance: Areyouok? Areyouok? Areyouok?
Fine. But your eyes still tell the story.
We ride on, not making it further than than Roncee.
Snooty coffee shop to order drinks before I mess up their restroom. Brown paper towels are not conducive to first aid.
You feed me some cookie and some tea, helping me through as the adrenalin wears off and soreness sets in.
I will never forget how your eyes still told the story
of what you would do if.
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