The day I fell over in Balham.
I lay there for a blank time, the pavement up my nostrils. The traffic was bassier at Reebok level, colder too. I should have opened my eyes straight away. I screwed them up tight, hoped that I may be lifted up by the headlights in the blackness. I lay there.
The man from the veg stall and his son pulled me to my feet. The son was sent to bring tea to me. I heard all of this, eyes still shut tight. They thought I was blind.
I took the tea and let it pool in my mouth. It scalded. I felt my eyelids stretch with the pain. They stayed closed. I tried to force them open with the muscles in my face but only succeeded in sending my eyeballs on a midnight loop the loop. The man and his son were watching, I know.
I said no to hospital. Could they call me a taxi?
I sat in the back and felt the buildings fly by. A sharp left-my road. I paid and walked slowly to my door.
People are kinder when you are blind and in pain.
