He got up slowly, looked both ways and crossed the street. Gravel was imbedded in his scalp, his cheek and along the right side of his body. Where am I he thought? How did I get here?
A car with tinted windows raced around the corner and screamed past him, narrowly missing a car approaching from the opposite direction. Jesus, he said softly and bit down on his tongue, jerking up his head as the pain radiated to his sinuses.
It was getting dark as he stumbled up onto the sidewalk on the other side of the highway. He saw a campfire on the side of the hill and heard the strings of an acoustic guitar playing a familiar melody from his youth. He paused for a moment at the edge of the bridge, looking up at the lights that illuminated the railings and spilled out into the night.
And then he began to dance. It was an odd sort of dance starting slowly and gracefully and then building to a funny little jig – something a child would do imitating the characters in a cartoon, or an old man with a raucous personality who was tired of being ignored.