Wherein I Resort To Violence (Sort Of)

It's not like I was in the worst mood that day, but I was no chipper chicken. Hannah suggested I take a stroll to clear my head, meet her at work, and then we'd walk home together. It was a no-brainer for me, especially since she always knows how to brighten my funks, so I locked up the apartment and headed towards Queen.

At Bay and Grosvener, it started to pour. Since it was the weather pattern of the day so far, I knew it would clear up soon enough. I sat under a bus shelter and finished my bottle of water.

I got restless after ten minutes and decided it would be best to head back home - even if it stopped raining, chances were that I would get caught in another downpour before I met Hannah. No sooner had I exited the bus shelter than a cranky old crazy man came barreling straight towards me - I had to bail to the side just to avoid slamming into his chest. As he passed, he mumbled, "f*ck you, f*ckin' bitch." I turned sharply on my heel to give him my worst death stare ... and then I threw my empty bottle at him.

It didn't hit him - he was far too gone for that - but I desperately wished it had. Maybe sometimes we all need a little altercation in our lives?