Me: The girl dismounting her bike outside of her apartment, when my front wheel slips on the ice, causing me to crash into the ground. I stand up slowly, clearly in pain because my shoulder feels like it's been dislocated, and I lean on the bike for support.

You: The guy walking by on his cell phone, who has witnessed this whole thing. You walk by and do not say a word--not even a brief "Are you OK?" You walk around me, a foot away, and continue yakking on your cell phone.

I hope Lady Karma finds you.