Crash Course in Responsibility

Damon is always late until a bike crash gives him a real excuse today.

Damon Kessler had a reputation at work, and it wasn’t a good one.

Every morning, usually ten or fifteen minutes after his shift started, he’d stumble through the front doors smelling faintly of last night’s bar tab.

This morning had started the same way. A pounding headache. Too little sleep. Too much regret.

He pedaled his bike hard down Maple Street, tie half tucked into his wrinkled shirt, hoping maybe—just maybe—he could sneak in before his manager noticed.

Halfway through the intersection, a sedan shot out of a side street.

“Whoa!”

The brakes squealed. Damon jerked the handlebars, but it was too late. The car clipped the front tire, sending him skidding across the pavement.

He lay there for a moment, stunned, the world spinning. His palms burned where the asphalt had scraped them raw, and his elbow throbbed where it had slammed into the road.

Someone called 911. Within minutes, EMTs were crouched beside him.

“You’re lucky,” one of them said while wrapping gauze around his arm. “Nothing broken. Just cuts and bruises.”

Damon winced as he stood, brushing grit from his torn pants.

Lucky wasn’t the word he’d use.

Still, after a quick check, they cleared him to go. His bike was bent but rideable. Slowly, sore and limping, Damon pedaled the last few blocks to work.

When he pushed open the office door, his manager, Mr. Halvorsen, looked up from the front desk.

Right on cue.

He folded his arms.

“What's your excuse this time?”

Damon stood there, hair messy, shirt torn, bandages wrapped around his arm and palm, dried blood on his cheek.

He shrugged weakly.

“Technically,” Damon said, “I got hit by a car.”

The office went quiet.

For once, nobody thought he was lying.

Word Count: 290
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: "What's your excuse this time?"
Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"