She remembered when they’d shown her the crash scene everything had been tidied away. They told her there was nothing to see but she'd insisted. She'd stood on the pavement looking across the road, flanked by the two police officers while passers-by looked enquiringly but without any real interest.
She looked for telltale signs but there was nothing to be seen but the blame that languished like a miasma, invisible to all eyes but hers.
She remembered a car horn blared somewhere nearby and her knees turned to jelly. Unable to stand up, she let them take her home.
Neville Hunt 3 months ago
Love the languishing miasma. This is very heavy. I like the emotional quotient and the darkness of the atmosphere. You’re right in your space, aren’t you Drew?