Alone and Alive

I was up late working on my beat (pharmaceuticals) report for today. I had had three hours of sleep, when I stepped out of my apartment this morning to find the carpet in the hall being shampooed. Despite a conscious effort to be careful, I fell down a set of slippery, concrete stairs for the second time in two weeks (the first time was at the airport upon my return from spring break). This time really hurt, and I had to sit there on the floor for a minute to make sure everything was okay. And then I wanted some sympathy. I wanted someone to ask if I was okay (which I wasn't), but there was no one. The cats don't care, as long as I make it back before they can see the bottom of their food bowl. I had a fleeting impulse to call my mom, but I remembered that I'm twenty-eight, not eight. Instead, I peeled myself from the floor and dragged my ass to the train, in the rain.