Letters From the Editor
He averted sure death by merely falling on to the side of his face, then recovered before anyone had a chance to offer help. He hopped up and out of the stairs, ahead of everyone else, and out on to the street, whereupon he darted out into rush-hour Sixth-Avenue traffic, paying no heed whatsoever to either personal or driver safety.
He made it out there, on the streets, I suppose, but I wonder for how long? Something must have been awfully important – and it must have been so important that it offered not one, but two, life-threatening injuries in as many minutes. What on earth is worth that?
Nothing. Zero. Nil. Which is why I walked the wrong way home this evening. Just for the hell of it.