Mark

Spring. Skating season has begun. It's your first season, you bought yourself a skateboard, a cheap one—you never know, you might want to give it up. You spent a week learning how to skate: how to ride, how to turn, how to brake. And in the second week, you decided it was time to learn at least some tricks. There's only one skatepark in town, so you went there. At first, you tried to perform an "ollie" trick, which lets you jump with your skateboard, but so far all you could do was "oh, shit."

A month later, while you were trying a trick, a skater crashed into you. He was also trying a trick, but it didn't work. He apologized, helped treat the bruises, and adjusted the wheels. Because he was embarrassed, he said he'd teach you some tricks, at least some. You were overjoyed, as you were afraid to even jump from a standing position. You'd fallen a lot before you learned the tricks, and even with the technique down pat, you still fell. But finally, you did it.

Today you decided to try it yourself, but under Mark's (that was his name) supervision. As soon as you jumped, the skateboard flew off due to improper technique, and Mark, in turn, jerked forward in half a second and caught you.

— Fuck, can you not hurt yourself? I feel so sorry for you.