The entire house seemed to be seething as acidic, thoughtless words continued to spew almost effortlessly from the mouth of a truly innocent woman. Desperate and marred, she used every last bit of the ammo she had built up frantically as her body exuded her pure emotions for the first time in years. She laughed at the legitimacy of her argument, and even pointed out that old cliché “truth hurts” applied to this situation. The troubled woman walked away, leaving a disgruntled friend and an iniquitous, illusory prevaricator behind. She got in her car and turned the key, with no place in mind other than the open highway near her current location.
The accelerator, pressed quickly to the floor at an untimely moment, proved to give more than expected; the numbers on the speedometer kept rising, and the lady screamed at the top of her lungs. Her phone rang, and with a sense of great urgency, she attempted to answer it. However, in her infuriated state, she dropped the device. Impulsively, she reached down to get it—taking her eyes off the road for no longer than two seconds—and looked back up to see eye to eye with a sixteen-wheel semi truck.
It was almost unreal, the way her car shot up into the air, weightless. It crashed back down onto the darkened highway and rolled, rolled, rolled.