250 Words: The man who yelled, “****!”/The man who threw the egg; AKA The **** and the egg

So safe in your cab, your daytime cell of metal and glass.  So safe at 30 miles per hour, only at the scene momentarily, just for the appropriate amount of time.  So quickly the word is yelled.

So happy in your moment of genius, no doubt the mate, the provider of banter, of cheap thrills.  So much of a laugh, no doubt, in your world.  Not in mine.

So unconcerned at the hurt caused, even though it was meaningless, impersonal.  Yet it still felt so sharp and left questions spinning in my head as I carried on walking up the road.

*

So safe with your mates, in your leisure time pod of metal and glass.  So safe at 20 miles per hour, only at the scene momentarily, just long enough to take aim, throw, and see the results.  So quickly the item can be hurled.

No doubt a look of anticipation as your arm drew back, as it flew through the air.  No doubt a look of joy, success, as it hit, exploded and spread.  No doubt you all laughed as you drove away so safe, so glorious.  No doubt you were congratulated, more or less clapped on the back.  So much fun in your world.  Not in mine.

So unconcerned at the hurt caused, even though it was random, impersonal.  Yet it still felt so sharp and left questions as I carried walking onwards, as I cleaned it away in the pub toilet, trying to hold back the tears.