It happened so fast. It was first thing in the morning. Most of the staff hadn’t arrived yet. The office lights weren’t even on yet. I scampered down the curvy stairs, you know, not a circular staircase, but stairs with a turn, the steps fanning out from zero width at the pivot point. My left heel didn’t make contact with a step where I had expected to find one. In less than the blink of an eye — the mind works with amazing speed sometimes — I hoped the next step down was the floor, because if it wasn’t…
It wasn’t. I cannot recall when, if ever, my right foot had come in such close proximity to my eyes. But there it was, not an inch away, if only for an instant. I could not see my left foot at all. It was directly behind me now, having found the bottom, four steps below eye level. Executing a perfect split, my crotch made momentary contact with the staircase before my entire being bounded back to a standing position at its bottom — a perfect dismount! An old woman screamed in agony.
