Wimpville

You decide to take "the safe route" and to skip the creative process for the day.  You don't even feel like hanging out to socialize.  You scurry back to the door and down the elevator to the lobby.   A bunch of fun looking people are coming toward you, so you back up to make room for them to pass.  You hear someone talking about the Loft and how much fun they've had there.  For a half a second, you regret your decision to leave.

You step out the door into the daylight.  You walk half a block to the end of the street and make your way toward the nearest subway station.  Someone texts, so you pull out your phone to check it.  Ironically, one of your buddies is texting you about a new place called The Loft.  They want to get together and hang out there because they've heard it is a lot of fun.  You stop to text them back and are laughing at the irony.  Out of nowhere, a pedi-cab runs you down.  You didn't even know what hit you.

You wake in a dim hospital room and realize you're covered in bandages.  The doctor says you have been there for over a month, but now that you're awake, you can start rehab and hopefully be out in another six weeks.

You try to get comfortable but you are aching.  The doc turns up your pain meds and you feel sleepy.  You stare at the ceiling, cursing your luck.

You overhear the nurses outside your room, talking about how much fun they had the other night at the Loft.

You pass out.

The end.

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