That's what's been happening with me lately. I was out walking my dog and she decided to run AT a car that was also running AT her. The leash locked in a weird way, so I grabbed at the rope part and then three of my fingers were practically smoking. The chucks taken out of two of them-well, let's just say the rope actually cauterized the wounds, it was moving so fast. Not sure if that's common or not, but it's the first time it ever happened to me. The whole time this was going on, I managed to continue having a conversation with one of my neighbors.
We were talking about another neighbor-a guy who I've shared a wall with for the last seven years and who had committed suicide the day before. No one really knows why he did it. His sandals are still sitting out on his back steps-his various gardening tools. I can look up at the window of his spare bedroom at night and see that his computer is still on, the monitor glowing just like always. All these little things. I think about him being on the other side of my wall, first desperate, then dying, then dead. And I was just going along like always, without a clue.
He was happy and cheerful all the time. Or, at least, he pretended he was. He certainly had me fooled.
I hope they're playing disco for him, wherever his is. He loved ABBA and had the license plate to prove it.
Oh, yeah. The dog is fine.