May 16th. You white, dressed in all Black, Jet Black Hair, voluptuous, with a knee brace on your left knee. I, Black, in shorts with an all white bike. I inquired about your injury. I believe you said you slipped and fell. I tried to get your attention but thought I failed, until you got off the train in Mid-town Manhattan and waved good bye. I'd love to speak a bit more.
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