The inside of his head was mashing against its outer, an ache of a severity so tortuous that he knew he had to finally hold himself accountable for it.  How had he inflamed it so?  Had it been what he ate?  Drank?—Didn’t?  The environment he put himself in?  Stress?  And what was that crash?  In his head?—or car-on-car?  He lifted his head and forced open his pained eyelids.  A young man was bicycling around a traffic accident, upright, arms folded at the chest, swaying it seemed this way and that.  He even stood up from his table to follow the abandon in the bike rider’s flow through dense traffic, and followed it till the hurt in his eyes began to lose the ache.  The rider hopped onto the sidewalk a little ways down, and then back into the density of traffic with an ease that thrilled him.  He smiled to himself at one point.  He had yet again caught himself distract himself and sidestep accountability.  To keep from having to obsess over what had caused the tortuous headache and have then to change cherished habits, he had abandoned himself to the sway of the rider for those few moments and found the ache somehow relieved.  That joy and surprise, he reminded himself, remained still for him gain worthy of the pain.