There's a part of me that always feels like a guy who narrowly missed getting hit by a bullet or a bus, and afterward looks around wildly and asks, "Did anybody SEE that?" And nobody did.
Once, about six summers ago, I was walking home from work on a breezy, perfect evening. I had on a new outfit, and was feeling pretty good. Then, as I passed the fruit shop, a homeless man hawked the loudest loogie I've ever heard, and spit on me. Right on my bare arm. Then he screamed at me, over and over, like a spell, "Cunt! Bitch! Whore!" until I walked, dumbfounded, away. There were three or four people on the street who must have seen, but they didn't say a word. I started crying and rounded the corner towards home. A block away a women asked me if I was okay, but by then it was too late to explain.
Getting my permanent implants on Monday.