And so we rode. We took a route that's fairly familiar to us that passes through a nice park in our neighborhood, where on nicer days, it's fun to bring our gloves and play catch. Mark suggested we travel through the park rather than go around it. I rode a bit ahead, when suddenly I heard a crashing noise and Mark yelling. Man down. That's not what he said, but I turned around to see him on the ground next to his collapsed bicycle. I turned my bike around and walked it back towards him.
Me: What happened?!
Mark: I slipped.
Me: Let me see your hands
(I expected his hands to be scraped, because that's what I remember of every time I've fallen off of my bike.)
It was at this point that Mark (still on the ground) reached over to my bike, put down the kickstand, and lifted himself onto one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket. He made a beautiful proposal, much of which is a blur, as I was so surprised/confused/shocked at the moment. All I know is I said yes and was giggling uncontrollably out of excitement and happiness.
