Hit and Run

On my walk home from the subway today, I was in the zone. Tired and focused on climbing the stairs to my warm apartment. The light at 33rd and Park couldn't possibly have been any slower. Icy wind streaming past the 10-story GAP advertisement toward Union Square. I cinched my scarf a few tugs tighter around my neck and tried to hide within the collar of my new birthday coat. Home. Warm. This bag's too heavy. Couch. Breathe. All I want is that stupid, white walking man to light up.

The adjacent red hand begins to blink and the building crowd begins to lean in unison toward a burst onto the crosswalk. Wait for it... wait. Wait...Yes! I take half a step forward and before my numb left foot can hit the pavement, something hits the right side of my body. A stupid delivery bike guy plows his stupid delivery bike basket into my unassuming shoulder and down I go. He's going the wrong way on a one way and to make matters worse, he simply glances back with a sheepish grin and rides into the night. 

That warm couch doesn't seem as comforting with a bruised shin.