Just then, my front wheel locked into his back wheel. I flipped over my bike and into the air. I could see him below me, lying by the side of his ruined bike. I closed my eyes and waited for the worst.
Somehow, he stuck out his right arm and caught me in midair. I fell against him with a thud, but that was all. There was no blood, no broken bones. We lay there among the battered bicycles, the zinnias scattered around us like a bad joke. Once we realized we were OK, we started to laugh. In my time of calamity, this was a minor miracle. I laughed so hard I started to cry.
By the time we learned that he'd injured his spleen when he caught me, we were seeing each other every night.
By Thanksgiving we had moved in together, and last week, we took a long bike ride in celebration of our fifteenth wedding anniversary. Both of our spleens are still intact.