Turning Away

This morning I don't do nothing.

It's similar to last time, but different.

I stand on the same corner - Kingsway and Great Queen where I saw the king-in-waiting swoosh* by with his consort. I clutch my signature coffee drink**, which in-and-of itself is a sign that it's a similar time of the day as it was last time.

I stand at the crosswalk and enjoy the cool yet warm temperature.

Some seconds before, a blonde lass has heeled to my left. I've glanced over, and a whole minute's worth of thoughts fill my head in less than a second.

Could that be the great Amazonian Sarah from Series 6 of America's Next Top Model.

I am obviously still reeling from my recent brush with celebrity. She is no where near the Amazonian Sarah's height. The blonde, taking full advantage of her commute, reads her book while she waits for the signal that it's safe for us pedestrians to cross.

I turn my stare from the blonde to the right - partly to avoid being caught scanning, partly to gauge the oncoming traffic and meausure the remaining time before the lights change.

Obliviously watching the oncoming traffic, I don't realise that I am absorbing a course of unfolding events. I don't realise that I see a cyclist spinning his wheels as closely to the curb as possible. I don't realise that I notice that an industrially sized delivery truck has turned on his blinker.

In a moment it clicks: I know what's about to happen.

My eyes widen. Inside I scream. Inside I stretch out my arm and stop the events from unfolding.

But the world turns on its axis on the outside. Events unfold. Industrial metal truck collides with hotdog cyclist. Metal crushes aluminium.

What do I see?

Amazonian woman on my left with her hand lady-likely covering her gasping mouth.

Why?

Because I didn't do nothing.

I turned away.

*Swoosh is fast becoming my signature word.
**Triple venti skinny extra hot wet latte. Yes, I'm one of 'them'.