Luck
I tumbled,
bounced off something sharp and caught for a second on a utilidor before
gravity reared up and hauled me over the edge. My left femur broke, the edges
of the bone shearing away from each other and waking nerve endings I hadn’t
known existed. Then a man came out of the house. Not the owner, maybe a
groundskeeper who’d been taking a break or a cook with no regard for hygiene.
His hair was greasy. He wore threadbare brown pants and a rough brown shirt,
and the second he saw me he stalked over and stabbed me with a short, thick
knife.
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