An Almost-Collision

What I'm listening to: Better Together (Jack Johnson) I almost died on Friday night. Well, more accurately, a skater almost died Friday night. Let me explain: on the car ride home from Safeway, I noticed a faint outline of a person standing in the middle of the road. At first it looked so freaky and ghostlike I thought I only imagined it, but seconds later I was screaming, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" (In my shocked state, I guess I couldn't articulate something like, "Dad, stop the car! There's someone in the road!") Nevertheless, the message translated in just enough time for Dad to slam on the brakes and scream a warning to the retreating form. Adrenaline drizzling away, I leaned back against the seat. I still couldn't get the image of us crashing into that guy out of my head. Thankfully we didn't hit him, but I'm never going to second-guess what I see again. And speaking of car crashes, here's the next portion of After the Crash: (Oh, and just in case you're being a little lazy, the narrator has flashbacks in this one) Many Happy Returns His halo the color of burnished bronze did not hold my attention. Though his intelligent, soft pools of melted chocolate gazed at me, they were not my primary concern. His perfect mouth touched my smaller one, and my frenzied heart threatened to attack. I awake in the same frantic state. A short woman wearing pink kitten scrubs rushes in. "Are you all right?" she asks. I tell her I just had reconstructive surgery three days ago. Her pink mouth sets in a firm line as she fills a needle with clear liquid. My eyes open wide as she injects the medicine into my IV. Maybe they have those clapper lights in here, because there's a popping sound and the lights start to dim. I hold my breath as the nurse unwittingly sends me hurtling back into the past. He smiled again and I felt his hard, muscular arms wind around me. Heaven. I had a feeling that's the closest I would get, but that was just fine with me. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he whispered into my hair. I would never wash it again. "Okay," I managed finally, pulling myself from his grasp and climbing up the stairs to my house. His sneakers crunched on the gravel as he made his way to his shiny new Echo. I held up my hand tentatively, watching it flutter like an autumn leaf. I stood outside long after he drove off, watching the dust settle and the night fall. Somehow, even though I watched it every night, the velvety black showcase of diamonds, with its large pearl centerpiece, never ceased to amaze me. I awake to the soft glow of morning. Artificial light shines from somewhere, hits the curtain, and glances off pink. Suddenly, I realize what woke me. A small, almost musical moaning drifts toward me from the other side of the curtain. "David!" I cry out in alarm. David doesn't say anything, and suddenly everything gets very quiet. The calm before the storm. Or possibly the devastation after it. I listen disparagingly for David's rich, calm voice. Nothing. All of a sudden, I feel very, very small and silently wish for him many happy returns.