I'm laying here with her in my arms, looking to the clock that's not plugged in and ticking back the seconds minutes hours to where my hands were on the wheel. The sidewalk is skipping by now, a normal pace, average speed and I can see the light turn red. My foot eases to quell my speed and instead meets the dirt soaked matted floor. Panic. I can feel my foot moving up and down, attempting to pump the brakes on a line that won't yield, but my mind is on the road in front of me throwing up desperate hands at my bumper, pleading with it to slow. the. fuck. down. My mouth is racing streams of "SHIT!" as my heart thinks burrowing out of my chest is the only reasonable escape route.
I blink and I'm in bed, looking at the back of her head, the scent of her japanese cherry blossom lotion and shampoo bringing me back to the dark room. I kiss her head and the relief sets in. Today could have been worse.