Brown Car

The brown car passed, casting a hook into her heart and dragging her behind.
It was impossible not to remember.
Impossible to breathe as the memories crushed her.
Like the weight of the ocean was bearing down on her, forcing her to think, to replay, to remember.
Their faces flashed in her mind as the brown car passed.
It drew her eye in the rear view.
Even though it wasn't them, she couldn't look away.
She couldn't stop the voices in her head, screaming that it was her fault.
The license plate started to shrink, ripping the hook from her flesh, leaving her bleeding and gasping for air.
She reached for the radio dial, like the music would be an invisible tourniquet for her wound.
It wasn't.
It just dulled her senses enough to make the thoughts slow down.
And the brown car, that was nothing more than a car, took a piece of her sanity with it down the road.