In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Finite Creatures.”
I was just short of eighteen and racing my convertible after midnight on a narrow road. At somewhere near 90 mph a farmer and his red Oldsmobile got in my way. Somehow, I missed him, but in doing so I spun around in the middle of the road. I thought I was going to be pitched through the rag top, but instead I stayed upright, and found myself under the dashboard against the firewall. I was certain those final seconds prior to impact were my last. I’d reached the end of my lifespan. But apparently I was mistaken.
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/finite-creatures/”>Finite Creatures</a>