88 - It is dark, the crickets are screaming

It is a clear summer night. I am driving. The moon shines on what my headlights do not reach. The hills roll.

I crest the hill and I see her eyes — diamonds in white. I am going to fast to stop. She cracks the windshield and I can no longer see. I am not in control. I spin. I feel weightless. There is silence. Time coughs. Then hands, yelling, brightnes…

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