She was driving back home after a long day at work when a dog crossed the street:
– ” Go on it’s just a dog” a voice in her head.
– ” Avoid it… Pull to the left ….. To the right !” a second voice (louder).
– ” Stop !! Pull up !! ” Another ( a yell of fear).
-” Hello !! Are you okay ?? ” An old man shouting.
– ” You miraculously survived it thanks to God and to the seatbelt you wore”. Someone dressed in a blue uniform.
Thankful, both her and the dog made it, unmindful of the curse under that band-aid. A five centimeter scar left on her cheek that ruined her life:
Taking a photo became a “don’t even think about it”, she misses parties like hell but that’s where she is likely to be mortified rather than having fun, she used to work hard to get promoted now she’s working harder not to be made redundant. Frequently groped in buses howbeit, she’d never bat an eyelid. She’d go back to her flat as soon as she can – just to get stoned, curse that bloody seatbelt that “saved her life” and sometimes to reminisce about the days she was a vivacious pretty girl – instead of wasting time fighting over a dead body.