Yesterday afternoon, coming back from "lunch" at Shark Bar, I noticed a crowd clustered along Spring Street. A young man, probably in his early to mid-twenties, had apparently been hit by a car. His neck was bent at an odd angle, and someone was in the street with him holding a roll of paper towels, trying to mop up or contain the blood and viscera seeping from the back of his head. His eyes were rolling about in that way that eyes do when someone is dying.
There was nothing I could do, and standing on the street would have made it even harder for qualified emergency personnel to get through, so I came back to the office. I like to think of myself as a pretty callous guy, but I have to admit that I was rattled and I'm still kind of rattled right now. I've scanned the papers and searched the web, but I've yet to see any word about the incident. I don't know what the point of even mentioning this is, but, you know, I'm pretty sure I saw a man die yesterday.
So, anyway, I don't know if this is me being sentimental or a big pussy or whatever, but take care of yourselves, okay? Don't jaywalk. Thanks. I'll try to snap back into being a dick again first thing in the morning.