There was a horrific accident down the street from my house. I went out to the drugstore, randomly, kind of on a whim (sometimes you just need to bleach the shit outta your hair, you know?) and...
Yeah.
I'm still processing. I'm pretty sure I saw someone die.
As I was coming out of the store, a woman told me what happened, confirmed that someone was, yes, probably dead. I looked over to the SUV she gestured at with a nod of her head. There was an imprint of a body on the driver's side door. The place where the head would be was a perfect, head-sized hole in the window.
The worst part....
There was a guy sitting in the driver's seat. Alone. And I wanted, more than anything, to go over and just make sure that he was ok.
And I didn't.
Why the hell didn't I? And what does it say about our culture that I could come up with way more reasons why I shouldn't go over, in spite of all the reasons why I should?
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