Alejandro

Substance of Dreams

At 2:06 of that morning I experienced death. It was swift: a car accident on the highway on a rainy day. A motorcyclist, mounted on a jet black bike with matching outfit, came around my left. They matched my speed for a moment, turning to look toward the center of my dashboard in the direction of a little black notebook before speeding up. I caught the semi barreling toward me out of my periphery just as I turned my head back towards the road and slammed on the brakes. The wheels did their best to grip the wet pavement but it was no use. I could feel the momentum of the car, completely out of my control, as it skidded recklessly toward the semi. It was swift.