“My grandmother fixed it perfectly.”
“She’s my grandmother.”
“Not anymore.”
The teenager laughed.
The Biker asked:
“What does that mean?”
The Little Girl explained:
“She sends me birthday cards.”
The teenager nodded.
“She likes her better.”
The Biker said:
“Sensible woman.”
The teenager threw a napkin at him.
Sunset deepened.
The street glowed orange.
The Little Girl looked toward the exact section of sidewalk where she had fallen a year earlier.
No marker.
No memorial.
Just concrete.
People walked across it without knowing.
Good.
She said:
“I thought you were going to punch him.”
The Biker almost dropped his ice cream.
The teenager stared.
“What?”
The Little Girl pointed toward the Biker.
“When he stood up.”
The teenager looked at him.
“So did I.”
The Biker frowned.
“You people think very highly of me.”
The Little Girl laughed.
The teenager asked:
“Did you want to?”
The Biker considered.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“For about three seconds.”
The teenager nodded.
“Fair.”
The Little Girl asked:
“What stopped you?”
The Biker looked at her.
“You.”
She frowned.
“I didn't do anything.”
“You told me not to be angry.”
“I meant because he looked scared.”
“I know.”
The Biker thought.
Then continued:
“Sometimes somebody has to decide what the next thing becomes.”
The teenager listened.
“The collision already happened.”
“Couldn’t change it.”
“You were hurt.”
“Couldn’t change that either.”
“I could make another problem.”
“Or not.”
The Little Girl looked toward the teenager.
“So I saved you.”
The teenager rolled his eyes.
“Here we go.”
She smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
The Biker laughed.
Years moved.
Not dramatically.
The teenager graduated high school.
The Little Girl attended with her family.
She was eleven then.
No crutches.
Still had occasional pain.
Still carried the bunny to major events, though now hidden inside a tote because she had decided stuffed animals were childish while privately refusing to stop loving hers.
The teenager found her after graduation.
“You brought him.”
She immediately covered the bag.
“No.”
“I can see an ear.”
“That could be anything.”
The Biker stood nearby.
“Looks like a rabbit.”
The Little Girl glared at both.