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Ding

It was an impactful moment the 18-Wheeler just kissed my near-side panel as it slid on black ice. My truck jolted and shuddered as if it had been kicked by a rhino. Rubber left the air for a tick of time, and then the vehicle sat down, rocking back and forth in the middle of the center lane. A guy I had momentarily forgot was clutching the steering wheel. In that instant, that old someone shouted "fork," then his dry lips whispered across long submerged years: "Mama! It's your baby boy."

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Book: Shattered Sighs