Roscoe eased his foot onto the accelerator and started across the intersection. He was distracted, and he forgot to look right. If he had, he would have seen the headlights of the truck coming down the one-way street and barreling through the stop sign. I was off in my own world and didn’t see it either. “Buddy, you’re not your father,” Roscoe told me. That’s the last thing I remembered until I woke up and saw Karly’s face.
