i was probably less than 8 years old. im not sure if i was in school at the time or not, but i was still at the age where i'd usually be holding one of my parents by the hand. i think i was, honestly, and in the other hand i was holding a very small soccer ball that was pastel pink and probably had some disney princesses on it. i wasn't holding my mom or my dads hand because i was really focused on trying to hold the ball, and was more excited about getting to play with it when we got home rather than trying to keep up with the rest of my family. regardless, i still managed to drop the thing into the road part of the lot. my parents had always told me to look both ways before crossing the street but i had just dropped my fucking, princess ball and i ran to go grab it and was almost ran over by a large storage truck. i wasn't hurt at all, and didn't actually process what had happened but my parents were fucking hysterical. which, makes sense bc their little kid had almost gotten flattened by a truck going way faster than it shouldve been in front of a highly populated mall. i still dont know why i didnt get run over honestly