I didn’t know what to do last week.
I was embarrassed and wondering if I had been seriously injured, or just too embarrassed to stand up. I sat down on my neighbors new wood chair and the back broke off. It snapped the wrong, and I ended up flipping the chair backward. When the chair went backward, I hit my head on the floor and my legs slammed against the heavy wood table I was sitting at. I could tell she was upset, but I didn’t know if it was because I broke the wood chair, or she was worried if I was hurt. All I wanted to do was crawl under the table and hide as I looked up at all the faces staring down at me. I rolled off the wood chair seat and ungracefully pulled myself to my feet. My head was throbbing, and my pride was suffering. I excused my self and apologized for destroying her chair. She was apologizing for not telling me the back of the wood chair was broken and I shouldn’t lean against it. All of a sudden, I was wondering why she put a broken chair up to the table, and I was furious. I stomped to the bathroom, hoping to wash my face and calm down. All I could picture was the broken wood chair, and wondered if she would have said something to me about the chair, if I hadn’t fallen. Maybe she would have called me later and told me I broke the wood chair when I leaned back, but I was wrong. She really did felt back, especially when I saw the gash on my knee where it slammed into the wood table.