I saw the aftermath of a car accident on Monday evening.

I left school, and made my first 5 turns as usual. Then I turned, intending to go onto Kiest. Traffic was backed up all the way to the exit off of Illinois, and it stretched like a red snake to the black horizon. I saw blue and red flashes up on the hill.

I was let into line by a blue-green vehicle of some small type and joined the masses in inching along the road. The trucks to my front and left groaned like whalesong as they rode their brakes. All traffic was being diverted to my usually-empty exit. Some people were driving along the right shoulder in an attempt to cut through the mess.

The marked-off area moved off to my left as I was pushed along. A green road sign in the vicinity had a broken-off corner. The cement wall across the road had deep scars and tire marks. Burnt-out flares scattered the area like buckshot caps, and a few still flamed their pink-orange from the blacktop. A small, dusty blue car was being pulled up on a wrecker. The front and back ends were smashed to either side, making it into a strange quadralateral shape. The windshield and cabin were mostly intact. There were no ambulances or firetrucks to be seen. From the look of things, they had left much earlier.

Something cold touched my forehead. I realized I was crossing myself. I put my hand back on the wheel and kept driving.