I was musing on the purpose of life and was so deeply immersed in my thoughts that it took the sound of a honking car horn to bring me back to the present—I had crossed Bay Street against a red light and had wandered onto the university campus and was just down the street from my old residence.
It was a drizzly fall afternoon with the air pungent from the acrid scent of maples and rain. I had forgotten the joy of inhaling the incense of fall, and couldn’t recall the last time I stopped to pick up a leaf, let alone, stare at a star.
I was walking along kicking through wet leaves when I spotted her—a beautiful girl walking on the opposite side of the street from me—an enchantress with honey coloured hair and huge brown eyes.
She glanced at me fleetingly, but quickly averted her gaze when she saw I noticed.
My heart leapt and a reckless urge pushed me to take a chance—to cross the street and invent some lame excuse to talk to her, hoping nature would take its course from there.
At least, that was the plan.
But as I started across the wet, leaf-strewn asphalt, there was a squeal of tires, and a car’s bumper struck me, just enough to cause me to fall.
I looked up from the sodden pavement at the driver.
He was an older man and his face was ashen—probably from shock. He wasn’t speeding and only bumped me, causing me to lose my balance.
I scrambled to my feet, gave him a cheery smile and waved to assure him no harm was done. I then hurried on to catch up with my girl. She was waiting and watching on the opposite sidewalk.
When she saw me approaching, she turned and hurriedly began walking away. It took me almost a block to catch up with her, but that gave me time to formulate what I’d say. It wouldn’t be a pick-up line—just a conversation starter.
I’d aim for humour—something like, Hey, don’t you know witnesses shouldn’t leave the scene of an accident? It’d be something to that effect.
As I was mentally rehearsing my opening line, she suddenly stopped and turned around, eyes wide with wonder.
Time seemed to stand still as I gazed into her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asks, aghast.
“Following you,” I say charmingly.
She ignores my boyish grin and demands, “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to be with you.”
“You can’t,” she says sternly, “You have to go back.”
“Why would I do that?”
She rolls her eyes and points back the way we came. I see flashing lights of emergency vehicles and a small crowd gathering.
When I turn back around to talk to her, she’s gone.
I’m puzzled. Perhaps the older man in the car suffered a heart attack—he did look pretty shaken up. I decide I better go back and check on the old guy.
As I approach the knot of people, I see a man lying on the road with paramedics working feverishly to revive him.
I’m intrigued. I walk up to the tight knot of people and work my way to the front of the throng.
To my shock, I find myself peering down into my own ashen face staring blankly up at me.
