We were walking down Hollywood Blvd, even though we never go there because I know how freaked out you get. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. The guy on the skateboard didn't know about your fears and whipped past us, wheels loud on the pavement. But I held you close, and could sense you by my side, so I didn't turn around to check on you because I felt your feet beside mine. I literally could feel you trembling in fear, but I tried to hurry through the busy streets hoping that we'd be at the next block soon. And I heard people screaming, but that's normal for Hollywood. And cars honking. And I turn and look and you have somehow escaped me and the footsteps behind mine were not yours at all, but Jack's instead. You have fled to the street, attempting to get to the other side where you may feel safer, and I see the car coming, and thinking back now I don't know if it was really going that slow or if, in an act of natural human masochism, my brain wanted me to remember every detail so that when I played the moment over and over again, I could forever picture it seamlessly. And in slow motion the car stops and you guys just stare at each other. I have no idea what I say then, but I am panicked. And you somehow make your way back to me, probably because I'm pulling you there with my words, but you are subdued, and odd, and I can't stop shaking. And when we make our way back home, you lay on the couch in peace and hopefully thankfulness, and when I attempt to hug you, you yell at me! And that's when I know that you know I wasn't looking behind me, and I totally feel like a terrible friend now.
Today has been better. I'm glad you're okay, and hope you understand, but you are never going to Hollywood Blvd again.
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