A simple tragedy.
She left school behind her and ventured home. Sweet music played in her ears and her large hazel green eyes watched the clouds rumble by. After fifteen minutes of one foot chasing the other she made it to a crosswalk and clicked the button with one mint julep fingernail. The button buzzed and the lights flashed and the little voice let her know it was safe to cross. She had made it more than half way when a twenty year old coked up blonde boy dropped a cigarette into his lap. He dealt with the immediate danger of burning khakis and was reminded he was driving a car by the crack of an angel on his windshield. She was broken but she managed to turn her head just enough to see the clouds.
She awoke in the road that night and the clouds masked the stars. She sat up straight and inspected herself for injuries, her cardigan was un-torn and her sneakers clean. It wasn’t until she turned to the sidewalk she never reached, that she saw a candle light sigil for her. They used her senior picture, the one she would never see in a yearbook.