"You make me uneasy." I told her.
Normally someone would question the accusation. She just laughed. So I continued. "You never look both ways and you rarely ever buckle your seat belt until I tell you to, you never turn off your engine when you pump gas, and you take the safety band off of your lighters. You jump off a cliff into the water before ever testing how deep it is, and you never warn someone before you take off."
All she did was look at me.
"I think that makes me pretty fun." She retorted facetiously.
"It's like you don't care to just, I don't know."
"To die?"
The way she said 'die' so nonchalantly made me wonder how the hell anyone could ever use it in a serious sense.
She breathed and then added, "I have outrun that thing more times than I can count, just by walking. I have shot it down without ever knowing of a bullet and I have moved out of its line of sight, just by shifting the way I lay the weight on my hip."
I blinked a few times and looked at the mess my hands were in my lap.
"Doesn't that tell you that maybe, death, it isn't meant for you.
She scoffed.
"I have missed the train for death too many times, so maybe next time I'll just jump in front of it."
~~ Excerpt from a book I'll never write #9
