“Seriously! Why always me? Not to be negative but I can’t even go for a ride in car without a knife being pulled! He didn’t even stay on the road! Ask Reb! We were bouncing over fields”

“I don’t need to. Remember the time when you impaled yourself on the bench on our way out? One leg rolled up, pleading to the bouncer to let you in? Thought it would have taught you a lesson!”

“What? To never go outdoors?”

“To not run whilst looking the other way!”

“Run? The car only had two doors! I’m bouncing around in the great outdoors, trapped with three drunkards and one’s wielding a knife! It was a carving knife too, just to make it completely ridiculous.”

“Didn’t it happen in the subway last time?”

“Exactly! Like I said, why always me?”

“At least you’re here to tell the tale. Keeps me amused”

I was only five. My only gift, primroses; picked with small hands and big concentration. Wrapped in red tissue, and placed in a basket to present with smiles. Strong winds blew, so I held them instead, clung on in desperation. Stolen by jealous gusts, I painted them with saline; only the memory of their glow could light my face that day.