Serendipitous
Andrea (Andy) Sachs, writer for TIME, exited Trump Towers. She had just finished an interview with Donald's daughter. Andy had an idea for a new look at the man wanting to become this country's leader. Ivanka had unknowingly given Andy answers to questions she'd only imagined asking. As she walked, she outlined the article in her in her mind and she smiled. It was definitely turning about a good day.
As Andy neared the end of the street she noticed a crowd gathering and yelling to call 911. Still ingrained from her first few years as a reporter working for the New York Mirror, without consciously realizing it she pulled her press pass out of her pocket and clipped it to her shirt.
As she edged her way into the crowd and up close to see what was going on, she realized she had just missed seeing the three car accident in the intersection. Smoke was rolling from the hood of the black car that had broadsided the second car pushing it into the front of a large city trash truck coming from the other direction.
Andy immediately began clicking pictures with the small camera she pulled from her messenger bag while she was moving through the crowd. As she moved to the front of the gathered crowd she could see several people trying to help those trapped in the sandwiched car. Story forgotten, she stuffed her camera back into her bag and slung it behind her onto her back. She headed straight to the passenger side of the car where people were standing as if in a daze. Andy immediately thought 'why are they standing around, do something', then she heard it. The voice, so quiet it was loud above the commotion. That crisp tone that sent men to their knees and that had filled her special dreams for years.
"I will not tell you again. Help my driver first. He will not answer me." Andy could hear the fear in Miranda's voice. In one split second every fiber of her being remembered the pain of walking away 10 years prior. In that single moment every feeling she had buried years before overwhelmed Andy.
The gasp that escaped her was loud enough to be heard by the man standing between her and the woman she adored causing him to turn enough for her eyes to fall upon Miranda Priestly.
The editors halo of white silky hair was matted dark red, almost black and blood was running down the front of her face. Andy could see that her breathing was labored and she was holding her left arm close to her chest; it was definitely broken.
Andy's heart sped up even faster, Miranda did that to her, as much as the fear she was feeling for the older woman. Without meaning it, "Miranda" whispered from her lips. Sirens were suddenly heard over the noises around her and she snapped into action. "Miranda." She said again louder, moving toward the woman and getting her attention. She pushed the man next to her aside. "Miranda." The woman in question looked up into the most beautiful pools of brown she would ever know. "Andréa." She breathed.
Andy moved to kneel on the street next to the woman now leaning back against the seat. Miranda looked Andy over as only she could, even in her current state, and spoke as she closed her eyes in relief. "Really Andréa, you will ruin those True Religion jeans kneeling on the filthy street." Andy laughed and a small smile tilted Miranda's lips.
"The Fire Department is here. You'll be out soon." Andy said. She ghosted the backs of her shaking fingers over the older woman's cheek. "You're going to be okay Miranda."
Miranda sighed heavily, reached up and gently took Andy's fingers into her undamaged hand and looked into those wonderfully caring eyes, "I know."