Black Ice
On the day that Shiran and I left the house for the trip to Seattle, it was wet and terribly chilling. Trooping along the pavement to the bus stop, weighed down by our bags, we stepped off the pavement onto the driveway of the next house.I heard an "Ooff!" from my left where Shiran was, and as I turned my head, seemingly in slo-mo, to look at her, my foot slipped out from under me as well.
In that instance of 2 secs, I registered Shiran lying on the ground on her bum, and then all I could see was the grey-blue sky as I toppled backwards myself and had the breath knocked out from me. Fortunately I landed on my down-jacket-padded bum and the bag I was carrying took the brunt of my elbow's weight.
Shiran cut her hand on the ground (and broke the glass of Ser Khee's picture frames, as we realised much later), but as we stood up, all we could do was giggle helplessly, breathlessly, gaspingly at the comic situation.
I could barely catch my breath for want of giggling, all the way to the bus-stop and at every single intersection in Seattle, when we had to watch our step. I'd burst out into a fit of giggles and induce Shiran to do the same.
Even now, as I write this post, I'm sniggering at the mere memory.
posted by Addy @ 8:13 PM
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