I have a very old-school old-timey construction-workerish metallic lunch pail that I bring my lunch to school in everyday. Today, as I was crossing a busy intersection, diagonally, my thigh knocked the pail's buckle and my lunch spilled out onto the street. There will quite a few people walking around me. It was very cold out and I remember looking at my hands as they collected the food--they seemed especially white--and my sandwich, apple and soda seemed so vulnerable spread out there on the concrete, and so soft, and the street seemed especially dangerous and hard. It has been a while since I've felt that small, for those few seconds.