It all happened in slow motion. I could see it perfectly: the expensive foreign cars, the dreary stairwell even in the bright late summer weather, discarded coffee cups and cigarette butts all over the place. There was no time to react. I knew what was coming, but even in the slow motion replay there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. The shadow loomed over me like a wave about to crash onto the beach, then slammed into my shoulder, knocking me off balance. Everything twisted and turned as my world was literally upside-down. I pitched down the stairs, feeling every bump and scratch. My left arm gets the worst of it; I heard a sickening crunch–

"Take it easy, Jimmy...take it easy..." Those words are repeated over and over in a soothing voice as I squinted in the light and tried to catch my breath.

The living room in all its familiar glory spun a few times, mercifully stopping before I threw up. I was on the sofa with a blanket tangled all around me, clutching at a pillow as if it were a life preserver. It was all coming back now...Greg didn't want me out of his sight for the time being so he got me a pillow and blanket and ordered me to stay put. I grumbled, but stretched out with his arm around me and fell asleep to the jumbled nonsense of a stupid soap opera.

"Sit up," he said. Easier said than done as I was still tad bit disoriented. An arm encircled my waist and pulled me into a sitting position. "You were just dreaming."

"Yeah...yeah...thanks for the information. I never would have figured that out on my own," I groused, not meaning for it to come out so bitterly, but it did.

"You were talking and moaning in your sleep," he said. Still worried about me, I could hear it.

The room came back into focus. World's Wildest Police Videos was racing along the television screen, the volume down low. "I fell down the stairs," I mumbled while watching a drunk driver plow into a tree. "I fell down the stairs and broke my arm."

"Is that what you were dreaming about? You said you didn't remember it."

"I was just walking down the stairs and this idiot runs into me...Christ, I could have broken my goddamn neck!" I stared at the cast in disbelief. Greg had written his name on it in big block letters while I was asleep. "That son-of-a-bitch nearly killed me for a checkbook! A fucking checkbook!"

"Jimmy, it's okay."

"My life is worth more than a few hundred dollars!"

"Calm down–"

"I'm glad he's fucking dead!"

"Jimmy! That's enough!" Greg dug his hand into my shoulder and spun me around. The look on his face could have peeled the paint off the walls. "Calm down, alright? Just calm down." He softened and the fierce glare in his eyes melted to genuine apprehension.

My rather disquieting fit of anger left as quickly as it came. "Yeah, yeah...okay..I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." The urge to burst into tears suddenly flooded over me. I held it back with everything I had. All I wanted was to go back to work and fall back into our routine. I wanted my regular, everyday, boring, Volvo driving life back. "Greg, I'm sorry...I'm–"

"I know," he said, and managed a tiny smile. "Considering what you've been through, that little meltdown was hardly unjustified."

I leaned back and closed my eyes, watching the colored pinwheels circle against the blackness. "I didn't mean to get so angry...I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I know you didn't."

"I was just suddenly furious, and wanted to yell at someone...anyone..."

"You weren't yelling at me, you were yelling at Mr. Purse Thief."

"I suppose you're right," I said with a flat chuckle, opening my eyes and staring through the ceiling. "It was so real. I saw everything, felt everything. It was like going through it all over again."

"I can see that. You're white as a sheet," he said, some concern creeping back into his words. "How are you feeling? Is your head still hurting?"

"A little bit." My head felt like it was full of mud, and my mind felt just as clear.

"How's your arm?"

"It's broken."

He snickered at that. "That it is," Greg said. " Does it hurt?"

"It's starting to," I grimaced at my now useless dominant arm. The next few weeks were going to be a bit of a challenge. Trying to do everything with my right hand would probably drive me nuts if the itching of the cast didn't.

I took another migraine pill and settled back into the pillow. All was calm again, everything was right with the world for the moment. Greg put his arm around my shoulder. It was a nice, comforting gesture and made me feel better than the medicine.