After a while, we got used to him, but when he came in on crutches with his leg in a cast, nobody was real sorry. We watched him hobble around for a while, and then finally I had to ask.
“Clark,” I said, “What happened?” He looked up into the air, and winced at the question.
“I got hit by a car,” he said.
“Why did you walk out in front of the car?”
“Well,” he said, “the light was green.”