I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry," his voice burped with regret. I knew he wasn't just apologizing for the words that had upset me, but also their meanings as well.
The darkness slipped by us in silence.211
"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him struggle to use a lighter tone.
"Yes?"
"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner and super-rescued you? I couldn't understand your expression—you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."
"I was thinking about my knee and all of their groins, trying to remember what I knew about self-defense... trying to figure out how to get them all with just one knee... " I thought of the dark-haired man in flannel with a surge of hate.
"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"
"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.
"What about screaming for help?"
"What are you talking about?"
He shook his head. "You were right—I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."
I sighed. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.
"What?" He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."
It was silly,
211. Voted the most profoundly poetic sentence of the new century by New York Times literary critics in the year 20XX.