Accident

Your footsteps from the café to the Volvo don’t quite meet the ground. You don’t even know she is behind you.

Can I drive? she says. She gets behind the wheel without waiting for your answer.

We need to talk, she had said, insisting on the café out beyond the city centre. She was sorry, she said, but she couldn’t go on like this. Whatever reasons she gave, they didn’t register with you.

She drives much too fast. She has just told you it isn’t about you. Then who the fuck is it about? you think.

She is the sum of every infatuation you have ever had in your forty-two years. For her, you left your family. You recollect the boys’ faces on the day they found out.

You are underwater. Nothing is in focus. Too many tears at once. Wipe them away.

You turn towards her. She is nothing but a shape beneath the water.

There are headlights in the water, and they are coming towards you. You tell her to keep to her lane. But it is already too late.

They pull you out and put you into a coma. When you wake, they tell you how lucky you are. One day, perhaps, you may be able to walk again.

Just before she leaves, the doctor adds one more thing. If it hadn’t been for the airbag, the steering wheel would have crushed your chest.

© Copyright 2026 Jørn A Jensen