By Meg Healy

KEEP THIS COUPON, it declared, stuck to my sneaker’s sole by the gum I’d failed to scrape off yesterday. I obeyed and pocketed it. The little red ticket popped out as I jogged, the wind took hold, and I gave chase. Brakes squealed as my peripheral vision registered the approaching truck. Reflexes took hold, and I rolled into the gutter as the driver screamed “Look where you’re going!” A flurry of wind ruffled my hair, and my ticket appeared again at my feet. I left it for someone else to claim this time, struggling to my feet and hobbling home on a sprained ankle. 

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Meg Healy lives in Albuquerque, NM, with her family.