She died on a Saturday
I remember it so clearly. The screeching of the tires, hazy lights in the reflection of the wet road. Droplets of water pouring down the windscreen as the windshield wipers continued to wipe them away.
I remember the sirens. The flashing lights.
And the blood, dripping down her nose as she lay sprawled on the steering wheel. Lifeless.
I blacked out before the ambulance reached us.
And there I was, at her funeral.
I lay the daffodils down on the gravestone... They were her favorite. The rest of the guests following in the queue.My boots squelched in the mud as I turned to leave.
Gosh, it all happened so fast
It was all a blur to me, the pastors speech, her family speaking. I didnt even go to the funeral meal. I just sat there in the church after I left from her grave.
No one spoke a word to me the entire service, I suppose they're all still in shock.
She sat with me in the church.
No one said a word.
Hello my lovelies, I started this draft on a whim so don't take it to seriously if there are a few spelling and/or grammar errors. Please let me know if you like this story, feel free to comment
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RandomShe died. For a long time I wished that I'd died with her. But life's not fair is it. It never has been, never will be. People die. Thats what happens. Cover picture is not mine. The story is.
