Random Oneshots

Strawberry Ice Cream

The argument was stupid. A stupid, useless fight that may have ruined both of our lives. We weren't even mad at each other, we just disagreed.

"That's stupid! It's disgusting."

"No way, dude! It's the best flavor"

"I'll give you $100 dollars if you can change my mind, but I know that you can't, because strawberry ice cream will always be gross!"

"B-be back in 10."

And then he walked out. Not fifteen seconds later, I heard a terrible sound outside our house. The sound of brakes squealing and a scream. I rushed outside to make sure nobody needed help and got there just in time to see a yellow Porsche speed away. And then I saw it.

He lay in a pool of his own blood. His fine blonde hair was matted with the stuff. His hands were scraped and torn. His right leg was bent at an odd angle, as was his left arm. His clothing was torn and bloodied, in tatters, clinging to his fragile body.

I rushed to his side. I sat on the cold pavement with his head cradled in my lap, my hand grasping at his. He was limp. I was sobbing uncontrollably. Maybe if I'd had more control, I would have called the ambulance sooner. Maybe things would be different. Instead, our neighbor came out five minutes later, phone in hand. She called an ambulance, and it arrived in minutes.

Now here we are, in his hospital room. His right leg is gone. His left arm in a cast, just like the first time I met him. His abdomen bandaged and stitched. A breathing tube is down his throat.

My husband of three years is in a coma. He's in a coma because I don't like strawberry ice cream.

A/N: sorry it's only a few hundred words. I'm doing this from my bed because I had a dream and wanted to turn it into a story. The characters are different though. Anyway, have a good day.