She was taking the turn too wide, that man appeared from nowhere, she heard the thud. To keep driving? Not to look in the rearview mirror? Pretend and hope and pretend and hope and wish and please if there is a god
No. She pulled over and stepped out, all the lights and moon and stars had gone out in the city. He didn’t show his face but she saw his hand, mangled, his prescription hand, and she wept in pointy gulps of horror and please don’t let this be real please let me be dreaming I’m so sorry so sorry.
And so it went on. And so she punished herself, branding herself in the city center, waving signs, telling them all and letting them whisper and leer and hate. Isn’t it just easier to be your awful self? Why hide.
