Nonfiction | March 01, 2010
Patient
Rachel Riederer
The full text of this essay is not currently available online.
The bus will have to move. I’m under its rear tires on the passenger side, and with the crowd, the driver can’t see me in the mirror. “Can you please tell him to move?” I say to someone leaning over me. It is easy to be calm because I cannot really have been run over by a bus.
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