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I know what this is—it happens every year in Pennsylvania. A dozen snowflakes hit the road and all common sense pours directly out of drivers’ brains. Half of the people drive fifteen miles an hour and the other half weave in and out of lanes doing seventy-five.
The bridge is a hellscape, cars spinning and wrecked in so many directions I can’t count them. I can’t even make sense of what’s happening. But we’re going to be part of it. That much is crystal clear.
“High-speed chase in a blizzard!”
Yes-haw, here we go!
take a sharp breath and look at my fellow travelers with new wariness. Someone in this car is lying.
🫣
“Wow, I didn’t know you could learn medicine through osmosis,”
I turn forward, staring out at the snowy road, feeling a million miles away from everything familiar and safe. Something isn’t right with these people. With all of them.
It’s damn hard to fall apart when you’re busy being steady for somebody else.
Everyone is acting weird. And maybe this isn’t just the heebie-jeebies. Maybe I need to pay attention.
Intuition is strong with this one. But apparently so is denial….
I should have gone when I had the chance. My gut was telling me something was wrong, that something bad was coming. And now it’s too late to run.
I thought Harper was all the things I wanted to be, but there are two sides to that coin. For every moment she’s held it together, there’s another where she’s fallen to pieces.
My body still senses danger. And maybe that’s because the danger has been with us all along.
But in the marrow of my bones I’m sure that if I don’t get out of this car something is going to happen. And there will be no way to stop it once it starts.
“Because sometimes it is easier to force strength for others than to allow ourselves to feel weak and hurt.”
“I think that’s what grief does. It reminds us that we are small. That we are not in control.”
