The grim faces of the first responders say it all:
the girl thrown from her vehicle is dead.
A phone rings—my phone; it’s my mom.
This girl has a mother whose calls she’ll never answer…
because of me.
“Hi Mom.”
“We’re all waiting for Birthday Boy. Where are you?”
Her voice brims with joy.
She doesn’t hear the sirens,
nor see the girl’s vacant eyes.
“Laramy?”
She’s speaking to someone I am no longer.
Her voice is an echo from a time gone by.
“I’m almost there,” I say, even though I’m a million light years away.