My number one goal would be to laugh at those who’d tripped, fallen, and smashed their faces into mine. I’d stare them right in the eyes, point, and snicker; so close to their dignified necks that they would feel my hot breath on their napes. I would teach them what it’s like to fall so hard and hit the bottom so fast… and maybe then, they wouldn’t direct their critical, darting eyes toward others for a laugh.
But if you were to fall… pass out; black out; flat-out unable to hold yourself up for even one more dragging second… I promise, I would catch you. I would make sure that gravity’s cruel grip couldn’t drag you too far down in abyss. I understand that stopping often hurts more than falling and maybe you would hate me for that, but if you found yourself unable to pick yourself up right away, I would stay and hold you until you were ready.
My hugs may not be very warm or comforting, but I can assure you that they are secure. The slipping and spinning and drifting could stop — you could just rest here — for a few minutes, or even a few hours. As you settle yourself into me, I won’t try to adjust my composure; I won’t become any softer or harder than before. You’ll know what to expect. I understand, the last thing you need in a moment like this is an unwelcome change in something that you thought would always be the same.
Sure, perhaps if I was new to the game I wouldn’t be entirely prepared for your falling steps, or falling body, but I could still feel your falling heart. And, I swear, I would hold the imprints of those first touches within my very being and remember each detail in perfect clarity until I, myself, was deemed unfit.
If I was a sidewalk, it might not be so strange to be me.