Cobble Wobble

Walking barefoot down a cobblestone street. With every step my ankles roll in on themselves. The difficult path demands my full attention, one step at a time. I look up for a brief moment searching for my next destination, stumble onto a rock that has been knocked loose and broken in to small jagged pieces. The bottom of my foot finds a sharp edge that slices through my skin. I freeze for a moment and watch as a pool of blood collects beneath me. I limp over to the curb and sit down. For a brief moment I feel no pain as I watch the people moving around me. Determined expressions of personal agendas. I lean over to take a closer look at my foot. The cut is deep. Dark red with flecks of white...a piece of flesh dangling down from the wound, reminding me of the egg and salsa crepe my stomache was growling for only seconds ago. At that moment a sharp pain shoots up my leg, stirring the butterflies in my stomach, and ending with a dagger-like sensation in my chest. My vision blurs, colors begin to swirl, then everything goes black. Two seconds later I come to, my foot still throbbing. I look up again and realize I have arrived at my first destination. I manage to pull myself up and limp through the open door. I walk straight pass the menu and up to the counter. "Large nonfat latte." The cashier nods without saying a word and I pay in silence as the barista makes my drink and hands it to me. No crepes for me this morning. I turn around and follow my blood trail back out to the door to the open street. Where was I going? The loss of blood is taking its toll, making it hard for me to maintain a train of thought for more than a few seconds. Visions of the crepe-like wound keep flashing before my eyes. I push the image out of my head and continue walking. Why did I choose this path? I pass a tarmac street running perpendicular. Smooth and easy. Why not take that route? I ponder the option for what seems like an eternity then continue my stumbling walk down the cobblestone street. Every step stings like hell, but something is pulling (or pushing?) me down this road. I pick up my pace...fueled by a nervous feeling in the pit of my core, butterflies stirring once again. This time not from pain. Where am I going? I cant remember. As my walk gets faster I stub my toe on an unexpecting large rock. My drink flies out of my hand and above my head. It comes down on top of my foot, lid flies off and the scolding hot nonfat latte burns my open wound. I never even got to take a sip. I stand there in silence starring at my foot, letting the pain wash over me. Tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. Frustrated. Confused. Lost. Why the hell am I on this road?? I contemplate turning around, back to the tarmac road. I stand empty handed in the middle of the cobblestone street. I notice a familiar face walking towards me, hand outreached. Their body language is saying they want to help but I look at their eyes and see a hollow soul. Glazed over nearly to blackness...looking not at me but through me. Their mouth begins to move and I try my hardest to listen. I hear murmurs but cannot make out any words. Egg and salsa crepes. Nonfat latte. Cobblestone, cobblestone, cobblestone. Right, I'm going crazy. I just shake my head...move my mouth trying to apologize, but no words come out. I can only turn and walk away. Moving more slowly now. Trying to save my energy for logical thought...hoping that the purpose of this walk comes back to me. Cant remember my destination, but I know there must be a point. No more pain now. I turn to look back from where I came. No more people now. I see a blood red trail zigzagging through the cobblestone street behind me. Doesnt feel like i've been walking long, but the trail fades off in the distance. I strain my eyes looking for the source, the jagged rocks, the pool of blood, the crepe store, the spilled nonfat latte, the tarmac road, the familiar face. Nothing now but a cobblestone street and a trail of blood. I am alone now. Where am I going? Why did I choose this path? And where are my shoes??