the pink paint

"clear?"

I stared at the peeling white walls.
"Pink would look nice," my mother commented and gave me a glare.
"You know I hate pink, Mom." I told her. She nodded, "Why do you have to be so difficult? You can't just be normal?" She asked.
"Normal is boring, I guess. It won't get you anywhere in life, Mom. Pink is basic, every 15 year-old girl's room is pink. It's too common." I looked around,
"How about light blue," she suggested and I nodded.
She stood and folded her arms. "Grab your stuff, let's go get paint."
She walked out, I heard her small feet tap down the hall, and down the stairs. The front door clicked open, and keys jingled loudly. "I'll be in the car, Mia."
I sighed loudly and stood up. I quickly put on my favorite pair of blue Nikes when I heard her blow the horn. I ran down the stairs, tripping over my own feet. I swung the door open and ran out it, closing it behind me.
"Jeez, Mom. I wasn't ready!" I told her as she put the car in reversed and I jerked forward.
We drove down our street, "Clear?" She asked as I played on my phone. "Huh?" I asked, "Never mind." She said, and pulled out. I looked up and a 4-ton semi-truck crushed our car.
I felt nothing, but sadness, I should've looked up. I should've looked up.