I should have stayed after the crash. I was wobbling across the commons, she was deep in thought as she unknowing completed the vertical arm of the cross
We struck in the middle of the undrawn image. The only sign of injury – her white shoes turning blood-red. So still, so perfect. So not mine.
I heard or thought I heard a noise. A voice calling. I hobbled away, both knees showing red through my pants, bike green from grass skid.
All my life, I bore the guilt. To take another human’s life. It weighed heavy; it crushed the things I would enjoy.
One day, I saw her – mesmerized I followed her adult image. To an office tower. To the 20th floor. To a television studio.
“Hey Molly,” shouted one of the crew. Coffee and donuts 90 degrees to the right.
I lost my chance for comfort, and she lost her sight.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge 65: Sadness
And, if flash fiction: 154 words