ending your day by the side of the road

We drove, talking. I don't know where we were, or where we were headed. It seemed that the drive was itself the purpose of the outing. It's always impressive to see you drive, sliding smoothly from gap to gap, making the whole exercise look laughably easy. I admired the trust you placed in your car, trust born of an intimate understanding of that machine's capabilities. Your talent was undeniable.

I don't remember what I did - I may have made a joke, perhaps simply brushed an affectionate fingertip across your earlobe. You looked my way, smiling broadly, clearly happy. My smile met your own as we enjoyed a shared, simple, private moment.

Someone may have pulled out in front of us, or possibly a fellow traveler along our road stopped short before us. Whatever the cause, you missed the cue - you held my eyes, rich with adoration for you, until too late. The brakes squealed terribly for a time that seemed without end, until they were cut off by the sickening crunch of two vehicles mating at seventy plus, and then darkness.

The world faded back to me slowly, revealing utter chaos. The lights, the sounds, all more or less indistinguishable in my shaken mind. I turned to you and saw that you were gone.

I woke once more to a feeling of dread, wondering. I thought of calling, but saw the danger there - my foolish and sudden need for reassurance must take a back seat to your gambit for happiness, of course. Still, it chilled me knowing that if something dreadful happened to you, there'd be no call to let me know. I'd never find out, and thus I will always wonder.