Slow Motion

The wet road, slick from newly laid pavement, rolled out beneath the car. My thumb pushed the off button of my cell phone as my hand folded around the casing to close the device. My eyes glanced up from the keypad to the car in front of mine. The brake lights lit quickly.  My hand moved quietly, slowly to the cup holder near the gear shift, as the phone slid from within my grasp and dropped with a soft thud into the round, plastic crevice. The right hand flew to the steering wheel, gripping the leather wrap. Right foot instinctively laid on the brake pedal, hard and forcefully. The black car to my right creeped to the right as the Saturn turned slowly, slowly from the rear, right wheels forced out from behind. I inhaled sharply and turned the wheel to the left, listening to the cry of the tires against the pavement. Their screech echoed off the ground and into the atmosphere. The hair on my arms stood on end and all senses alerted. My heart beat a quiet thud, thud, thud within my chest. Focused on the red Malibu, my eyes watched as the Saturn drew nearer to the bumper, a silent prayer to St. Christopher running through my head, praying to avoid a collision. The black car to the right halted in the gravel off the right side of the road. My car slid to a halt and the force threw me back into my seat. The Saturn managed to stop inches from the red bumped.

I exhaled. The black car remained silent on the side of the road. I slumped in my seat and waited for him to pull off the roadside and continue on, as if that matter of seconds never occurred. My car remained nearly perpendicular to the road when he pulled away. I inhaled. My heart beat thud, thud, thud in my chest. I exhaled. I drove away, never more aware of the heightened state of seeing your life in slow-motion spurts.

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