I'm driving in my car. It's a Sunday morning. I could be at a church service sat in some pew listening to a man older than sin scream at the top of his lungs about Jesus and God, but the yelling makes me too anxious and I don't believe in religion, so I opted out. Instead I'm driving to my job, which is a call center who calls about politics and how good your farm going. I find my gaze going over the yellow lines and beyond the pavement to explore the green that is trees and grass and the red that is brick making up the walls of a house. It's dewy and foggy. The perfect morning. The feeling that brings me back to childhood memories of riding somewhere early in morning in the car with my mom. It was usually to doctors appointments. I was always sick. I zone out and my mind just wonders into an oblivion. Sometimes I don't understand how I even get to whatever it is I'm going. I look up only a ten minuets later. I haven't wrecked surprisingly. The thing that snapped me back to attention was a coal truck driving dangerous too close by me. I wish I didn't live near a strip mine. As I come into town I get in the right lane, only to regret it minuets later when I need to get over in the left lane. I get over in the neck of time and cut off when the light flashes orange, because no one is coming. That light is dangerous sometimes. I get going down the road to my work. I have to pass the hospital and Highschool along the way, including the YMCA. This road is always busy and at night no one ever dims their headlights. I swear I'm might go blind. I find my eyes drifting again. There's deers on the side of the road. They're really cute. One is a baby and the other is a mama. They're so innocent and so radiant. A curve is coming up in the road. The deer are standing in an empty parking lot. It's for the YMCA when it gets overly busy in the summer. They look at peace. I'm not turning the steering wheel.
I look out at the road as a jerk grabs my attention. I wrecked. I feel air on my body and intense pain. The pain was so painful I know, but it only lasted a second. Was it because I died? Or from the shock? Definitely the shock. I didn't die right away. I could feel the concrete on my skin and the sound of hot metal popping in my now destroyed little, grey car. I hear car doors slam and the sound of the creek beside the road. Is someone coming to help? The sounds of sirens bounce off the mountains and rings in my ears. At least the medics are coming. I feel wet. My stomach, my legs, my head...why am I wet? It's not raining? I'm not sweating. Oh right, that's blood. I can smell it because there's so much. That irony smell. I can taste it too. I think I'm dying, but I'm not sure. I look over and see a flower in the grass nearby the edge of the road where my body laid. It's yellow and white. It looks so fresh. No bugs have ate on it and it's covered in dew drops. It's so beautiful. It makes me feel nostalgic. I remember picking these and bringing them inside to my mother. Shocks in my chest don't bring me back to attention. I've wondered off in my mind for the last time.
