I’m going to give you the moral first; don't run up concrete stairs if you're clumsy. Just walk. Take your time. Smell the birds...or whatever.
Anyway, so I’m late for class so I’m power walking since it's socially unacceptable to run in sandals and jeans and I come to the stairs and I decide to jog up them. I wasn't even sprinting or anything, just trotting up the stairs. Anyway so I miss a step and I fall. But when I say fall I don’t mean I just fumbled and got back up real quick – no – I didn’t just fall - I ATE IT.
Try to imagine this but keep in mind this all happened over the course of roughly two seconds…
I guess my foot didn't go all the way over one of the steps and it slipped off the edge and I smacked my right knee first and then my other knee and then my first knee slipped too and my really heavy book back/laptop took my top half down too and I like somehow kicked my ankle into one of the steps and eventually hit my face and chin and elbows and hands. So I'm lying flat on my effing face on these stupid stairs and I look up and EVERYONE ON THE STAIRCASE IS STARING AT ME. So of course I do that forced laughing thing where you look around and say you’re fine and try to get everyone else to laugh too but NO ONE LAUGHED – they just stood there with their mouths open or said “oh my god.”After everyone got over the shock, two girls helped me get my books together and get up. I decided to limp home to nurse my bruised knees (not to mention ego).
So now that I am severely bruised, apparently "falling down a flight of stairs" is code for "my husband beats me" because friends and family are now concerned for my well-being and apparently the way my imaginary wife-beating husband treats me...cool.
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