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| sent from: London, UK. destination: San Francisco, California, USA |
Part I of this story is told on missive #135.
His foot slipped off the pedal. His left foot, he thought later. The weight of his falling body fell onto the handlebars and he tipped forward, describing an arc before his head was interrupted by the corner of the pavement. His stomach was crushed by the handlebars and inside, out of sight, his spleen ruptured. He lay in the street, stunned, watching blood drip from his head and feeling that something very, very wrong had happened inside of him. He hoped it was just the mince pies but after they had been vomited up the pain was still there, so he couldn’t just limp home and hope to avoid a fuss. People were coming to him now, so he lay there, waiting.
Continues tomorrow on missive #136.