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Crushed love by Phareal Gostfelt

Copyright Phareal Gostfelt 2011

Published at Smashwords



I could only remember my week. For five days I had been working twenty three hours a day with only an hour left to sleep. We slept at the office. We ate at the office. We had not left the office all along those five days. I could remember that as Friday night approached, we had decided that a night sleep was well deserved. I could remember that one of us had to drive. I could remember that he had asked me to drive.

As I opened my eyes I started to see bits and pieces. The hour was late, and the obscurity was only partly shattered by a light post above my head. My ears started to hear again, the buzzing sound of emergency vehicles could be heard in the distance. As time passed, the sound grew and the light changed. Sometimes blue, sometimes red, the light was forever changing and started to make me dizzy.

I tried to move, but I could not. If I could, then I did not feel any parts of my body. I had, however, passed the state of pain. I did not feel anything. My head was still lying on the wheel and as I tried to open my mouth, a drop of blood reached for my tongue. I wanted to panic, but I could not.

I tried to focus my eyes on the nearest object and after a great effort; I managed to grasp an image of my surroundings. Like a camera would take a picture, a still frame was now engraved in my mind. As I looked back at it in details in my head, tears started to emerge from my eyes and blended in with the drops of blood.

His head was on the dashboard. The shattered wind shield was resting in pieces over his head. I could see his face distinctively. His mouth was still, in the most perfect smile I fell for the first day I met him. Drops of blood were scattered on the perfect cheeks I had once taken in my hands before laying a kiss on them. His nose, once straight shaped, was now on the side as a tree bowing to the wind in a storm. His left eye, as green as the spring wet grass, was still open. The right one was closed. His short hair had remained untouched, barely pushed aside by the wind shield that had landed on them.

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