FranKophone

She was changing sides on the bed. Trying hard to fall asleep. Everything was fine, she knew everything would be fine. There was a nagging thought though. Something on which she could not lay her finger on. Like a question. What had she done to deserve a good night’s sleep ? Images of the morning swept across her eyes. A random kid under someone’s wheels. The mourning wails, the confusion, negotiation. Maybe she should have done something. Something meaningful instead of making money. Did her money mean anything to children who die everyday ? She knew the answer but pretended not to. Instead, she popped in a few pills and waited for sleep to come. 

At forty-nine, this could not have happened. It was a different matter if she had been eighteen or even twenty-nine. She could not believe it. Nobody would. But that grotesque touch lingered. She let that pass and got off the bus.Maybe scarred and scared for the rest of her life.