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.
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By the time we learned that he'd injured his spleen when he caught me, we were seeing each other every night.
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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.