There’s always that moment, right before the world ends. One of quiet clarity where you see your heart beat and hear the electricity crackling along your skin. When the taste of blood and fear are distant memories even while they lurk near the surface.

She had just said, “I can’t believe I forgot to pick up toilet paper.”

He pumped one last time, the sweat running from beneath his receding hairline, his forearms cording with the effort. “That should do it,” he gasped as he struggled to stand.

She smiled and lit a cigarette. “You did that like an old pro, Jer.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “A man of many hidden talents.”

It was as he bent to retrieve the tire iron that her line of sight, momentarily unobstructed, encompassed the swerving minivan with an impossible trajectory. There was no time. Only time to see her heart beat and feel the hairs on her forearms rise in front of the electricity crackling along her skin.

 

167 wds

FFM 2015 Day 2

4 thoughts on “That Moment

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