🚗 💥 🤕
when the glass cracks, for a second the world splits with it. the impact of the hood against the windshield startles sloane into shutting her eyes. but even if she could see, there wouldn't have been any way to avoid the airbags. her hand slips on the steering wheel. the car pivots.
everything goes white—and sloane hears horses. it's fall again and the wind nips at her cheeks as she rides. she's small and she's free and she's infinite.
"oh my god!"
she tumbles out of the open fields and onto her knees. the pavement embraces her as she folds over, sucking in air expecting it to taste like green grass and oak trees. she's bleeding onto the concrete. someone tries to talk to her but she's too busy plucking petals for lady luck.
she loves me. congratulations, sloane shen! she loves me not. hood. windshield. airbag. she loves me. hang in there, i've called an ambulance. she loves me not. nose. leg. blood. blood. blood.
something closes in in the distance; the thunderous sound of hundreds of hooves clip-clopping against the asphalt to try and get to her, to take her some place eternal. but when she looks up there is only the miami skyline.
her bones ache with relief.
(at the end of everything, sloane hears horses.)
