"Come on," my best friend Anne Marie calls sounding like she's drank five espressos and dragging me by the hand. Anne Marie doesn't get it. Carefully I place my feet, wondering if she is flipping her hair while smiling at some hot guy. That's what she did in the old days. The days before the accident. The days before I had to relearn everything. I miss seeing her wide grin and her flashing brown eyes. "You're going too fast," I call fear tightening my voice, but it's too late. I'm tripping, falling, the world is completely dark. Logic tells me I'm about to hit cement. Experience says I'm descending down a never-ending black hole. My palms hit the pavement just before my face does. "Sorry," Anne Marie says grabbing me by the armpits and helping me up. My hand reaches for the cane I dropped in the fall to my doom. Of course, it isn't there. It fell too. A moment of panic takes hold before Anne Marie is shoving it
Do your best, take it day by day.