Andy: The Klutz

My confident strides spoke of my mood. I was a hip, young and dynamic go-getter of Australia’s white collar fraternity.

My tie snug around my neck, my collar adequately starched, my long overcoat wavered behind me slightly as my constant footfalls declared a man of intent, not one to be fucked with. Not today.

I held my chin high; I like to look confident. My eyes peered through the dark lenses of my Tommy Hilfiger sunglasses, averting the eyes of any onlookers I caught staring at me.

My footstep was suddenly interrupted by an askew sidewalk paver. It struck the toe of my clean black leather shoes, causing my weight to shift abruptly and pitch my hips at an angle that could hardly be considered elegant, or confident.

I caught my balance before I plant my nose square on the pavement of King William Street.

I correct my stance. I stare the world directly in the face.

I so meant to do that.

I walk on.

This has been my day.

Thank you.