Frozen
So, here we are standing on the curb waiting for our bus to come. It's chilly and overcast except for a small patch of sky where thin slants of light filter through. I look over at Darren and his head is nodding to a beat in his head. Lana, just beyond, is soundlessly forming a grocery list on her lips. And this car, a rusted out boat of a car, plows through a red light, swerves to miss the man in the red coat walking through the intersection, and slams into the back end of a delivery truck. Baked goods go flying into air and all eyes are on the grandma in the grey Buick barreling towards a collision with the delivery truck and the wrecked, rust heap of a car. And now, when I tell you that time slows down, you think you understand, but you cannot even come close to comprehending how it is now that I can walk between two cars on a collision course, turn, ever so slightly, the wheel of the grandma's Buick, and pluck a bag of frozen baguettes from midair.
