Part .00
Bright eyes empty. They're gone. In a flash. It was an accident that no one could expect. One that she didn't even see coming. Her quick wit is gone. I mean, she was there two seconds ago talking to me. I miss her. She was my best friend.
That idiotic driver. That idiotic drunk driver. That idiotic drunk driver who hit her. Her empty eyes. Those brown eyes. That curly hair. My best friend is gone because of some stupid drunk who stumbled out of a bar and decided to drive himself home.
The driver lived. The two others in the car were thrown out the windshield. Their faces sliced and cut into bits. Both of them died. Only the driver, who still had enough wits fasten a seat belt, lived. The driver lived but the pedestrian who was in a cross walk at the correct time the pedestrian died.
Her blood stained the pavement. The driver hit her and swerved into another car. Luckily, the car was parked. But her blood still stained the dark pavement. Bicyclists stopped and cried for help. Messengers started protesting. Protesting at a death something they couldn't stop! It seems odd, them protesting.
She was just delivering a package. A package. It was simple. Ride your bike, deliver the package, return.
She didn't even notice it coming. She is usually right on top of things. So quick. She was preoccupied, thinking of the dead who she loved.
She's with her dead now, the one she mourns for.