With one broken ankle on crutches, I’m hobbling by myself toward my doctor’s office for a check up when I hear you, sitting in a convertible on the other side of the parking lot, yelling “Eh what happen to her!? Eh, what happened to her?!” Ignoring you, I just went inside, all the while struggling to walk. Then on my way out, half an hour later, you were still there, yelling the same thing at me again. But this time you’re with your girlfriend, who’s now yelling, “Least that’s not me!” Thanks for making me feel even worse!
Illustration: Ron Pitts