I saw a man fall off his bike yesterday.

He didn’t even teeter or attempt to prevent it. I looked up just in time to see his nearly stationary bike keel dangerously to the right and collapse on top of him.

I rode up to him and looked down as I passed. He lay curled up in a semi fetal position, eyes closed, motionless. He didn’t fall violently or anything. It almost looked like he fainted and went limp.

I kept riding about five yards. Slowed. And pulled my bike around. Rode a circle around his limp body. Uncertain of what I would do. No one else seemed concerned.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked. “Kahn chahn ah yo?”

No response. I circled again.

“Are you okay?” I said a little louder. “Kahn chahn ah yo?”

He opened his eyes and saw me. Still not moving, he quietly said “Thank you.”

He didn’t quite look Korean. His skin was dark, his arms were twigs and his cheekbones gaunt. He wore light slippers on his feet. A delivery boy on a scooter pulled up and lifted the his bike off of him. A couple of girls from the restaurant next door stood at a distance. Yet as the man stood his eyes never left me. He bowed slightly and again said, “Thank you.” I smiled a little and nodded, then pedaled off down the road wondering why I feared this injured little man so much I never even got off my bike.