I was standing outside a bar this evening saying goodnight to some friends. A girl stepped out of the door and lost her footing. This would have been fine if the bar was on the same level as the pavement. Sadly, it was a posh bar and it was nine steps snootier than the pavement. She fell down all of them. I dived to catch her but I was too late. She hit the bottom with a sickening crunch. All I could do was catch her phone which was less heavy and, suprisingly, more bouncy.
I assumed she would be seriously injured. Certainly, there was blood. Certainly, she was unconscious.
But then she came around. Thank the Lord, she was alive (because it would have seriously ruined an otherwise fine evening if she hadn't been). She whispered something I couldn't hear. Christ, she could be on her way out. These could be her final words.
I moved closer and said, 'What?' even though, given the grave circumstances, I probably should have said, 'Pardon.'
"My iPhone4" she said like we weren't in a movie. "Is it all right?"
And I said, "Yes, I caught it."
And she said, "Thank you." And struggled to her feet. And wandered off.