breathe

974 47 9
                                    

Perhaps it was the snowflakes, filling the air until one could barely see.
Perhaps the driver was drunk, high. Perhaps he was looking down at his phone, life and death ignored in favor of sending messages out into the air.
Either way. It didn't matter now. What mattered was that the paramedics said he wasn't breathing.
Breathe. Breathe again. Please. A miracle, just for me. Breathe.
Yellow police tape barely held back the flood of gawking onlookers.
He shouldn't have crossed. Sure, the sign flashed "walk", but still . . . somehow . . . he should have known.
The bystanders heard nothing, but the policeman who pulled the small, dark-haired male off of his silver-haired counterpart on the ground will swear that he could only repeat two words, over and over, even as the ambulance doors shut and it rode off into the snowy horizon.

Snow ~ VictuuriWhere stories live. Discover now