Non-classifiable
All I did was ask what he'd given the horse. I didn't say the words illegal doping. I didn't say anything about cheating. I asked a simple question. What did you just give the horse?
"Go out for a pass," he said.
The old lady was still ahead of us. She had already reached the park and was walking alongside it. I ran past her into the park. Drew's arm arced back and over his head. He sent the Frisbee sailing through the air. But it didn't come straight at me. Instead it curved to the left. I ran for it. I was in the clear too—until the old lady in the black coat suddenly started down the path that cut through the park. She must not have been paying attention. I yelled for her to look out, but all she did was turn and stare at me. Maybe she hadn't heard what I said. Then, boink, the Frisbee hit her on the side of the head. I saw the starteled expression on her face. She staggered a little to one side. Her foot slipped off the path. Her ankle twisted. Then she crashed to the ground and just lay there.
