It was a day as ordinary as any other. At least it should have been. If you could ignore the torrent of rain flooding the streets,
The hail, falling viciously, threatening to break any unsuspecting windshield,
And the ground, damp and slick, promising to trip up anybody who should misstep.
Perhaps that explains why everything felt so much like falling.
It felt as though the earth had been pulled out from beneath my feet that day, and there was no navigating my way back.
I had no map for the journey I would have to take next. My feet had no place to go. No solid surface to cling to.
I received no warning. There was no flare to signal the events that would transpire That fateful, rainy morning, when you merged onto the interstate.
All I got was an email the next day. A phone call. And a thousand glances in the hallway that sang a sympathetic requiem.
And I swear if pity could kill, I would've died right along with you...