Sober Up.
Because Andre stood there, waiting for the bus for arrive.
It was early in the morning. A winter's sunrise, just barely peaking over the clouds. Not enough. And Andre wore dark clothes that couldn't reflect a single bit of light off of them.
He took the heat of the crash when the car popped the curb. It was a long weekend. A little drink or too wasn't so bad at first. Maybe the sobering was too much for the guy. He panicked, tried to shake bleeding, tire-burnt Andre awake, cursed up a storm, and sped away as fast as he could.
The neighborhood kids avoid that tree because it's too close to oncoming traffic. Too close to a world that could just slam into them and trap them in something they were not ready for. Too close to Ms. Jackson's mortified sobs. Too close to the skid marks staining Andre's once smiling face. Too close to call. Far too close.
©SelfTitled, 2017