I expected the path back to my dorm to be forgettable. Iād taken it enough times that my hands knew when to push harder and when to coast. I was thinking about getting inside quickly, not about the ground.
The rain earlier had blurred the edges of the pavement. The water sat just high enough to hide where the curb began, turning a familiar route into something that needed more attention than I had planned to give it.
I felt the chair tilt before I understood what had happened. One wheel climbed higher than it should have, the angle steeper than the rest of the path ever was. I tried to correct it, but the chair stopped with a firmness that made it clear I was done moving on my own.
I felt helpless, and then annoyed at how quickly that feeling arrived.
I reached for my phone out of habit, then remembered there was nothing it could do for me. No data. No way to call anyone. Skipping the data plan had seemed like a reasonable decision earlier. Campus was small. My routes were familiar.
I looked around. It was late enough that the path was mostly empty, the kind of quiet that usually felt reassuring. Now it felt like a bad bet. I stood there running through options that all felt worse the longer I stayed still: waiting and hoping someone passed by, trying to stand and push the chair from behind, joking to myself about spending the night exactly where I was.
Each option had a cost I could already feel in my shoulders and chest. I didnāt want to draw attention. I didnāt want to risk falling. I didnāt want this small stretch of path to turn into a problem that required planning.
I waited.
When someone finally appeared, the relief came too fast, almost embarrassingly so. They helped without fuss, and within moments the chair was level again, the path suddenly ordinary.
By the time I reached my dorm, Iād decided I should probably get data on my phone. I also knew I wouldnāt, at least not until the next time it rained.
