Precipice of Disaster
Surviving an accident is something, coping with the fact that it didn't happen is something else. Last weekend, our trip home from a card game event was met with the closest brush with death I'd had in a while. Luckily, no one was harmed and we got away with light scratches on the front bumper. However, the car swerving our way was noticeably banged up, one wheel lying in the middle of the road. I surmise that it might have bounced off other vehicles before swinging at us, the driver long past unconscious.
We got off the highway frazzled and confused. We spent the next few days even more confused. It all seemed too big to not make it into any news outlet at all, but no matter how hard we tried, there was nothing. On the record, nothing happened that night in the highway. Traffic was normal. No abnormal report, no nothing. I would have scoured social media if not for the fact that I don't have any account anywhere and most places now require you to login to view anything.
I would have thought I dreamt of that incident if not for the fact that I had four other friends with me in the car, all similarly shaken. I've been telling myself that maybe it wasn't as big as we thought. A form of fixation my brain kept demanding from me. What happened? What happened? How did the other driver fare?
I'd been meaning to write about doing travel sketches and some art stuff but there's just no appetite to. The shadows linger, haunting.
What happened?