Page 140 of Swallow Your Sorries

“Ten. That’s the tenth question,” I say, standing upright, before dipping down into another backbend and peering up at him. “There was an ornament. It was tall and thin but protruded at the sides. Like something with wings maybe.”

“And the car itself?”

Why does he even care?

“Eleven. It was one of those old-fashioned cars. Like the nineteen forties. A deep forest green with sparkles.” I stand upright again. “But you’d almost mistake it for black.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“Twelve. It was so dark, but when he hit me, I fell on the hood and I got a closer look at his face. He was middle-aged. Regal looking, but that could’ve been a placebo effect because of the fancy car. I can’t remember much of his features, just his eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They were so bright. Nearly translucent.”

“Blue?”

I shake my head no. “Thirteen. Grey. Like crystals.”

Gant

The hit. At first, it’s nothing more than a blur of darkness.

But as the windshield shatters and the car zooms beneath the streetlight, a shimmer beside the glass raining down on me embeds itself into my eye.

A shimmer of forest green.

Not black.

Stay.

Stay present.

But the ornament. She saw it too.

She’d touched it.

It was a man. A white man.

A middle-aged white man with pale grey eyes.

That’s something.

That’s more than something.

Elle’s just given me what the CCTV cameras couldn’t.

Stay present.

But it’s damn near impossible with my mind whirring as fast as the memory of the oncoming car.

Focus on Elle.

On her silky red hair that grazes her shoulders on every sloppy pique turn.

On her breasts that bounce from the motion.

On her green eyes that are so familiar yet so different and so alive.

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