It was late. Just past 9.
I had stayed longer than I meant to at my granddaughter’s birthday dinner. First time the whole family had gathered in months — lots of food, stories, laughter. It felt good.
Until the drive home.
I live about 40 minutes outside the city. Quiet, curvy roads. No streetlights. Just blacktop and whatever’s coming toward you.
That night, what came toward me was a truck.
And his headlights.
I didn’t even see the bend.
One second, I was gripping the wheel and squinting into a wall of blinding white.
The next second, I felt the tires leave the road.
And then… nothing but spinning metal, glass, and the sound of my own breath getting crushed.