Passing through the receiving room door the large rolling garbage can catches on the metal lip causing it to lose balance and fall backwards. Shocked at being pummeled by the café’s trash when crash the green molded plastic lid smashes my face. On the ground smarting from the pain, I rub my finger over the bridge of my nose. I feel something. Something wet. Ugh.
The supervisor, the one I have a crush on, wondering what the hold up is returns to the scene.
“You were attacked by the garbage,” he snickers.
“What does it look like?”
He returns the vessel upright then extends his hand offering aid asking, “Are you okay?”
“My nose hurts.”
“You are bleeding, too.”
“Well I guess it is better than a couple other options,” I say wondering one, if I resemble a hockey player and two, if I have proven to him that I am an idiot.” Against my will tears being to form like beads of perspiration on an iced latte cup.
“How did this happen?”
After I explain he responds, “I cannot believe you got attacked by the garbage can. We should probably fill out an accident report.”
“Um, can I wash my face first?”
“Oh yeah. You probably wanna do that.”
I lock myself in the confines of the employee bathroom.
WRITING PROMPT:
Today we’re trying a little something different. Are you ready? Your word is below. Take the next ten minutes to write about the first single memory that word calls up. Focus on the emotions and the experience, spend ten minutes really exploring that memory. Then wrap it up, publish, and come back to link up.
