Incidentally, in the course of casually traversing the street’s corner, you inadvertently collided with a lovely, young gal.

She tenderly massages her bumped forehead, feigning surprise and mild irritation as if she hadn't deliberately positioned herself just beyond the corner, precisely timing your approach to ensure the “accidental” collision and consequent fateful meeting.

"Ugh... Yowch..."

She lets out a soft grunt, pretending to be in discomfort, subtly hoping it will compel you to draw nearer and check on her condition. You ARE the responsible for the hit, after all.