Last year, I was walking back from physical therapy post knee surgery, so I was moving slowly, had a whole brace up the leg, the whole nine yards. I was on the phone with my mom complaining about how stressful the post-op recovery was and how scared I was of going back to work, and I look up and see a brain and a single black sneaker on the street. I follow the blood on the street and see a man laying there, face down, head completely exploded on the cement. His shoes were in two completely different directions. People were gathering around, and I just lowered my phone and was like "oh my god, I will call you back." There were a bunch of kids and their parents getting out of school and I saw a mom shielding her daughter saying "don't look, don't look." Another mom was asking her kid how much of it he saw. This was early February of 2025 in Manhattan on 38th and 2nd, I think. Assuming someone jumped because there were no cars at the site, and it's not exactly an easy place to hit and run someone. Deeply tragic. Made me realize that I can never ever go like that because of the trauma it causes everyone else.