You're on your way home. On your bike. Slightly over the speed limit. But that's okay.
You realize you're losing control of the handlebars.
Your grip tightens. Everything blurs into slow motion. You just have enough time to think "Oh, fuck!"
You see people helping you up. They look concerned, and funny too, opening and closing their mouths. You can't hear what they're saying.
You look down. There's a rather large red blotch on your jeans, near your right knee. It is slowly spreading out. You can't feel it.
You remember. There was a dog. Crossing the road. You had slammed your rear brakes. There was sand too.
You look around. Your bike is all smashed up. You search for the dog. It's nowhere to be seen, probably ran away from the crowd.
You look at your bike again. This is gonna cost a bomb. You want to get angry. But you smile instead.
The dog is okay.
