Post 1483. Monday March 20
This week are writing to someone we hurt.
To whom it may concern
I’ve lived with the guilt for forty years. I still wake up in the middle of the night in a sweat, thinking about it.
I was the person that ran into you on my bicycle in the park at two forty-seven on the afternoon of August the sixth 1977. I sent you flying backwards into the middle of a family’s picnic splattering them with sticky trifle and cream cakes. I veered into a rose bush and went head-first into the pond splashing a torrent of dirty water all over you and the picnickers. I startled a swan which leapt out of the pond flapping its wings knocking you senseless. The children started screaming, the father cursed and the mother burst into tears. I dragged my bike out of the water and rode off as fast as I could.
Ahhhh, I feel better now!