Crash

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He'd got the coffee and croissants.

She'd got the Sunday morning papers.

Their eyes met as she stepped out in to the quiet road.

An engine roared, shattering the tranquility of the sleepy morning.

The red Ferrari screeched around the corner.

Gary was helpless to stop it.

The car collided with her, throwing her up, limbs splaying in the air; newspapers cascading to the ground.

The Ferrari swerved, crashing in to a tree, rudely displacing the blossoms from their branches.

The coffees Gary was holding slipped from his hands.

Blossom floated gracefully through the air landing gently on her immobile body.

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