I hear the dog's bark before I see the headlights, a yip that somehow reverberates through what's left of my skull.
I wonder what it will be this time.
I feel the bile rise in my throat, my hands shaking in a preemptive attempt to save what little I have left.
I think I remember seeing stars as beautiful as I once was, but I cannot be sure.
I can remember wanting to be a ray of light, wanting to be delicate in the way a shard of glass was; a stained piece of a larger mosaic.
Maybe today I will.