Minding my own business, is dangerous

You wouldn't think so, but walking down 10th yesterday morning minding my own business turned out to be just that, dangerous. Not impressed with the outcome.

So, here's how it happened:

I was walking back to the office, with coffee. I like to get coffee from the Firehook. Their double espresso - is pure awesome.

So, there I was carrying my coffee back from the Firehook at Columbia Square on 13th - heading to my office, minding my own business and something hit my right shoulder.
WTF?
I didn't bump into anyone, and there was no one who could've bumped into me.
Something hit me - kinda by my collar bone, just maybe half an inch higher.

Annoying.

Unexplained.

My coffee did not spill. (Lucky!)

I carried on walking. It wasn't until I lifted my cup to my mouth that I noticed my arm felt a little unresponsive. I switched my coffee to the other hand, let's protect that precious liquid at all costs.
When I tried to rotate my shoulder, to loosen it... it complained loudly. Sending sharp pain down my arm.
My brain said, "That's not right."

I kept walking. No sense being a drama queen in the middle of the sidewalk. It wasn't that far back to the office. I had quite the dilemma... I couldn't hold my coffee and make a phone call at the same time. I'm left handed phone user - which should've been fine, but I had my cup in my left hand!

Anyway I got to our building, set my cup on one of the large square bollards out front - they kinda make an attempt at planters but fail. Pull my phone off my belt, discover that to be quite painful. (I wear it on the front right, next to my gun.) Here I was right outside the building, so close to a few uniformed agents that I could asked for help... but that seemed so, well, dramatic. They weren't taking much notice of me, what with people walking past constantly and mine being a familiar face.

So, what to do? I leaned on the bollard/garden and called upstairs. I hadn't bothered to touch my shoulder but I was pretty sure the drip drip drip off my finger tips was blood.The sticky substance on my phone smelled suspiciously like blood. The thought that I'd done something monumentally stupid was simmering close to the surface.

Kurt answered his phone on the second ring. He went quiet when I told him I was outside dripping blood. Turns out he went quiet because he hung up and was RUNNING down the stairs. He flew out the door onto 10th.

No one hit me. Some bastard shot me. How fucn rude!

Now I have to type one-handed... and Delta are not happy, and woo hoo - I have my own protection detail. (Like that's going to fly for long!)

At least the shooter was shit. Must've been close too - probably in a door way, semi obscured... yeah, let's go with that. Maybe a silenced handgun. Possibly 9mm. It's not that big a hole.

Disgruntled lunatic? Fucktard?

I have to go now.

Ellie.