Yesterwary

Stars and signs and street reflectors streaked past him in glowing, muddled lines as he sped down the highway. The night became more blurred with each messy sip from the flask. He felt nothing but the burn of alcohol in his throat and the weight of emptiness in his chest.

Stars and signs and street reflectors meandered past her, guiding her, like beacons of hope, toward a dream she never thought she’d obtain. The night was open and inviting, each mile-marker bringing her one step closer to a new life. She felt nothing but excitement and possibility.

His eyelids drooped as he tossed the empty flask into the backseat, and rummaged through a plastic bag on the floor until his grip tightened around a bottle of whiskey.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the headlights swerving across the lanes, and her knuckles whitened as her grip tightened around the steering wheel.

He was too numb to react to the sound of the blaring horn.

She was too late to react to the sound of the crushing metal.

Lights and sirens whirled around him as he came-to. A trail of sticky red matted his dark, greasy mane to the steering wheel. His eyes focused in on the EMT who was trying to pry him from the mangled heap, and he wished for nothing more than to be left there in the ruin; to die.

Lights and sirens whirled around her as she faded away. A quilt of glass and dirt held her to the cold ground. Her eyes focused in on the stars above as they beckoned for her company, and she wished for nothing more than to stay behind; to survive.

He never saw her face.

His was the last face she would ever see.