A Life Spared
Over and over and over he rolled. Down the highway. I saw the fall mostly in the rearview, speeding past at a stunned 60 mph. The thought that I should have stopped to help did not occur to me until I was miles down the road, after the red bike falling, skidding, scraping, across lanes where falling is forbidden and witnessing the hands crossing back and forth before the body, begging that soul not be severed, that flesh not be rent.
After, thoughts were flippant, selfish. "Wow, I'm glad he didn't get run over, because I think I would have puked." "I'm glad he didn't fall in front of me, because I probably would've hit him."
All a drawing of the ready cover of humor over the unthinkable.