I had never been the type to consider my own fragility. I've never been the type to consider much of anything. Not until last week, on my way to work. Before that I knew only three things; that I have one of the dullest jobs in the world. That the only reason I keep going, other than the excellent pay, is Samantha. And that she is hopelessly beyond my grasp.
The day in question was a Monday. An ordinary, busy London day. The only thing different was the sun in the sky, a rare thing in this day and age.
I always liked days like these, it seemed the city was designed for it. A chance to show of its colours. The people too had a tendency to look more beautiful in the sun, and I wanted nothing more than to take in the sights of London and the crowds around me, but thanks to a tube delay I was running late, and the knowledge of how little my boss tolerates unpunctuality rushed me forward.
As I bounded up the stairs from the dark station below, the bright, cloudless sky caused me to squint. Unable to see and with no time to waste, I dashed right, hoping that my muscle memory from taking this journey thousands of times before would led me in the right direction.
By the time I could see again I was already at the newsagents with its papers, its magazines, its caramel bars. I looked at all the people around me. The girls with bare shoulders and the men in tight t-shirts. I looked down at my own body and hated myself again. My silver tie hanging slightly to the left from my collar and, straightening it with my hand, wondered what I must look like to Samantha. She never sweated or had ruffled hair.
The warmth in my suit was stifling, and although there were many other business men and women dressed the same as me, I still couldn't help but feel woefully out of place and self conscious. Who was I to waste such and amazing day by wearing inappropriate clothes. I didn't want to be at work, I wanted to be out with the young people, throwing a ball in a park, making love on the grass.
I remembered wondering what Samantha would look like lying on the grass next to me, her flowing yellow dress and brown hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Me propped up on my elbow, slowly running the back of my hand down her arm and feeling the goosebumps as she reacts to my touch.
I realised I had stopped walking, people moved around me with tuts or shaking heads, I was always drifting into fantasy like that, and it always depressed me, not because I would get lost in daydream, but because I would get found back in reality. And who wants to end up there?
I started moving again, tragically aware of the fact that I now knew I wouldn't make it to work on time no matter how much I wanted to, which wasn't much.
I picked up my pace, thinking that I could at least look like I made an effort to get in on time. But as I now know, none of that really mattered, not any more.
It happened just before I turned the corner in Stall street. It's hard to describe the sound. 'Bang' doesn't really do it, I suppose the nearest thing I can think of is the noise of a car crash, with all the scraping and glass smashing, only much, much louder.
The sound knocked me off my feet, slamming my head onto the concrete. I think I must have blacked out. The last thing I heard was a woman screaming.
As I came to I saw the blurry outlines of legs running in the direction of where the sound had come from. Slowly I got up, nobody checked if I was ok or alive, I felt like a true Londoner. After a shake of my head I stood up and followed the people around the corner into Stall street.
A crowd had gathered in a circle, all stood looking into a shallow crater in the earth. A burst pipe sprayed water high into the air, but nobody cared about that, for everyone was looking at what had caused the crater. Sitting in the middle of the newly formed hole was an elephant, a fully grown, fully tusked, and fully dead elephant.
“Shit,” I remember saying. I had never seen an elephant in real life before, living or dead, and I was instantly struck with confusion and sadness. That creature didn't deserve to be in a crowded London street, it deserved to be running free and, well, alive.
He was sat on his hind legs, slouched forward, looking like a giant toddler's stuffed animal left in the corner of a playroom.
I looked up at its face, its wrinkled eyes closed, and with a thin stream of blood coming from its mouth.
How did it get here? The crater it sat in meant it appeared as if it had fallen from the sky. Looking round I saw that others thought the same, and joined them with my neck craned looking straight upwards. There was nothing of course, no clouds, no answers.
The elephant became surrounded by the inevitable video-phones and digital cameras.
I wanted to get away, to show more respect. I walked backwards out through the crowds and around the elephant's back where the crowd was thinner.
I turned to take one more look at the creature, and that's when I saw the leg, a human leg, sticking out from under it.
Thinking back now it was obvious that a thing that size falling in an area that busy was going to land on someone. I remember feeling sick.
I walked back towards work, no longer caring that I was late.
Funnily enough, my boss didn't believe me when I told him why I wasn't on time. Not until Samantha and Thomas rushed into his office and told him to put on the news.
I found a different way home that evening.
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