John and the Jogger

Here’s a little story I wrote one day, a writing exercise in which we were to describe a person gazing off the Brooklyn Bridge, watching the sun rise over NYC.

John loved the view of the Brooklyn Bridge from the East River. He’d walk there in the morning when it was still dark so he could see the city in first light. Often he would see others there who were walking and enjoying the city as well.

He was close to Squibb Park one morning when someone came up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a pretty blond lady jogger overtaking him. She sideswiped him in passing and John lost his balance. He landed on his right arm and one knee.

“Ouch,” he grunted, rubbing his elbow.

The woman stopped and jogged in place as she asked if he was okay.

Now what do I do, he asked himself. Then his ego kicked in. He jumped to his feet and gave her a serious push. Caught off balance, she went over backwards and landed on her fanny. She sat there for a moment looking so shocked John almost laughed out loud.

“I’m so sorry,” he shouted, faking contrition. “How could I be so careless?”

Her face registered a flash of anger, then she leaned back and laughed. “Touché.”

John reached out a hand and helped the lady to her feet. “How can I make up for my rudeness?” he asked. “Can I buy you a coffee as an atonement?”

“You are funny,” she said. “Okay, I’m sorry. How be I buy you the coffee — to make up for my carelessness.”

“Well, I didn’t have to retaliate,” John admitted. “My male ego took over, I guess.”

She grinned. “Terrible fault. That’s good for a muffin.”

“Okay. You buy the coffee, I’ll throw in the muffins, and our egos should both recover nicely. What’s your name, by the way”

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