Please enjoy this next in my line of Ficly.com Shorts!
“Crazy,” she told the misty air, as she and I looked over the wreckage. The smoking pile of refuse at my feet used to be my twenty-five thousand dollars of torque and stereo and rubber. I guess this kind of thing happens.
She glanced up at me, trying to gauge my reaction. I realized that I had stopped looking at the metal and melted plastic and was staring through to the pavement below. She said worse things could happen. I nodded, gently biting the inside of my cheek, and then tonguing the small swollen area.
I kept waiting for someone to walk out of the mist with a camera crew and tell me I was on t.v.
They’d towed the other car away. Some cop told me that the driver must have had a heart attack and died before smashing into my vehicle. I couldn’t be angry. I had no one to blame as a fat man in a green jumpsuit hooked up what used to be the back end of my car to a winch and hauled it, screaming, across the pavement and onto the back of his truck. They’d never get rid of all this shattered glass.
Originally on Ficly.com: http://ficly.com/stories/15716
-Adam
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