I wander the planet with six billion faceless people, and I'm the boorish one with the audacity to hurt out in the open. My wound gapes messily, and my arms are too tired to hold it closed anymore. So I lay down, exhausted, in the middle of Everything.
The people who know the Rules stare straight ahead, and go about their business as usual, and step over my prostrate form as one might avoid a pile of refuse, or a crack in the sidewalk.
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