Did you know that leaving the scene of an accident without leaving your name or insurance information constitutes a felony hit and run? When you plowed into me as I walked through the intersection of N.E. 28th and Broadway just after Thanksgiving last year, you got out of your car and asked if I was okay, then hurriedly drove away. I was NOT okay; I was in shock. And I had a hairline skull fracture and multiple contusions where I landed on the pavement. A year later, the entire right side of my body thrums with dull pain which intensifies in cold and wet weather. I'm still paying off the $2,000 in medical bills my insurance wouldn't cover. But why should any of this matter to you? You certainly weren't overly concerned about my immediate well-being the night you ran me down, so why should you care a year later that I—not you—am still paying, in more ways than one, for your incompetence as a driver and shortcomings as a human being? Happy Thanksgiving, bitch.
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