I’m not sure if it was because I hadn’t eaten breakfast or what, but suddenly my legs gave way and all the groceries I was carrying tumbled to the ground.
In a panic, I scrambled to pick up the potatoes that had rolled away.
“Leave them out, miss! Look at your leg!” An old lay shout to me.
Confused, I looked down and realized my white dress was already soaked in blood. Hearing the urgency in her voice, I forced a smile and looked up.
“Oh, I’m okay,” I said to the concern lady. “It doesn’t hurt,” I added to reassure her.
When I finally managed to gather the potatoes, the elderly woman walked over, letting out a sigh.
“Look at all those blood. How can you say it’s not hurt? You’re so stubborn,” She scolded me. But she took a handkerchief and tie it around the wound.
“Go take a cab straight to the hospital. Don’t let it get infected.”
I thanked her repeatedly and once she left, I grabbed the rest of the groceries and hobbled home.
I had everything I needed at home, so there was no need to go to the hospital.
But when I got home, I found that I had crushed the beef slices into a mess.
I didn’t even have time to change clothes. Grabbing my phone, I rushed back out the door, only to get a message:
“Work’s crazy today. I won’t make it back tonight. Have dinner without me.”
I felt a shiver in my chest, but I pushed it aside.
I smiled and replied, “Okay,” then tried to open the door. But no matter how I searched, I couldn’t find my keys. I had forgotten them—again.
After a moment of hesitation, I decided to text Damon.
[I forgot my keys. Can you send them back to me?]
I sat down on the stairs, waiting. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before my phone finally buzzed.
[I told you we should’ve switched to a password lock, but you brushed off the idea. Now you’ve lost the keys and I’m too busy to bring them to you. Are you happy now that you locked yourself out?]
I knew he would be upset and I immediately started typing in a panic.
[I wasn’t asking you to bring them. Maybe you can find delivery guy to send them over? Password locks are really unsafe—there are so many cases online. Let me find some examples…]
But as I typed, I stopped. He hated when I bombarded him with messages while he was working.
I silently erased the text and simply typed, [Sorry.]
Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I hated that I was always so forgetful.
The property manager finally arrived with the spare key and he helped me inside.
It reminded me of two years ago, right after we got married. I kept forgetting my keys back then, too. Damon was afraid I’d lock myself out, so he had arranged with the property management to keep a spare key in case of emergencies. It had been two years and I had completely forgotten about it. It wasn’t until a neighbor saw me sitting on the steps, covered in blood, that they got scared and called security. That’s how the property manager found out.
“Mrs. Krueger, do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
Brent Hunt, the property manager, was still as kind-hearted as ever. I shook my head.
“No, it’s fine. I have first-aid box in the house, I’ll treat it as soon as I get in. Thank you.”
I got up carefully, but Brent gently stopped me.
“Mrs. Krueger, when my mom was sick, you were the one who took her to the hospital. This the least I can do.”
It was true. One time, Brent’s mother had suddenly felt ill with chest pains and I had been the one to call for an ambulance and stayed with her until she was stable.
Later, Brent came to thank me. Believing that she was trustworthy, Damon gave him a spare key to our place.
I couldn’t argue with him, so I nodded.
“I’ve got to go, but if you need anything, just call me,” Brent said, turning to leave.
As I watched him walk away, I looked at the groceries and felt like crying.
I had bought so much and now I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat it all. Damon was going to scold me for wasting food again.
