un-christian

board the bus after my run at spe. the woman behind me has this pda/phone contraption, and it has her rapt and complete attention, so of course she walks straight into me. the nokia takes a spill and she lets out this soul-rending cry of anguish. at the time, i am not yet quite aware of what happened -- mostly annoyed at being jostled, really, but when i turn to see what the big deal is, she's staring daggers at me as if i'd just raped and murdered all seven of her children and fed their carcasses to the wolves, and at the precise moment that i register what she has done, the black thought crosses my mind that i really, really hope her pda is broken. irreparably.

i) it wasn't
ii) i don't think i'm sorry

Currently reading:
The Photograph - Penelope Lively