Her husband sat her down at the bed. She’d just taken a hot water bath. She placed her towel on her shoulder to soak up water from her wet hair. She inhaled deeply. This wasn’t the first time she had to answer the questions. This wouldn’t be the last.
“How did it happen?”
“What did he say?”
“How does it feel?”
“When exactly did it happen?”
“Did you see it all?”
Once again she closed her eyes and recalled the moment. In a flash, it was all over. One second she was at the pavement, the next she was on the road, the head of a dying man on her lap, blood drenching her clothes, tickling down her skin, shock overriding the bile building up in her stomach.
She opened up her eyes again. She was ready.
Her husband instead said, “It must be difficult for you dealing with the accident. Do you want to eat outside or should I cook?”
She breathed again!