A murder took place five feet in front of me.
I am, first and foremost, fine. I was not fatally stabbed, so what kind of an asshole would I be to say I am doing anything less than ok? I am not a victim, and am simply a bystander.
It is true that in the moments after exiting the train I had trouble walking. My legs were weak, and I vomited on Vine Street near the Hollywood Trader Joe’s. I spent the next two hours looking at my shoes and jeans every few moments, convinced I had stepped in blood. I think I freaked out a bartender when I asked her to look me up and down and let me know if she saw any blood, even though I knew full well that I never came all that close to any. She shook her head no. Then I got drunk.
That was essentially how the night ended.
I don't know that we have a murder — was it a premeditated killing? — but police certainly would like to question the assailant, who fled. Martens writes that he has not read any of the news stories.