Photos First, Blame Later

Greta was riding her bike down Linden Road when a van stopped fast in front of her. She was braking, but the van's back door swung open and clipped her handlebar. She fell onto the grass.

The delivery driver climbed out. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” Greta said. She stood up slowly. “But whose fault was this? I was riding in a straight line.”

“I was looking for a house number,” the driver said. “I didn't see you. I'm sorry.”

“You opened your door into the road,” Greta said. She did not shout, but she did not smile either.

“And you were going fast,” he said. “Look at the marks on the road.”

Greta crossed her arms. “We disagree, then.”

The driver thought for a moment. “Maybe we both made a mistake. It depends how you look at it.” He took out his phone. “Let's just take some photos. No more arguing on the road.”

Greta uncrossed her arms. “Fine. Photos first. Blame later.”