stories that start at the end
When her car hit the guardrail, just after she closed her eyes to the reverie of late night jazz on the radio, Roberta woke up, really woke up, for the first time all day. It took only a few seconds for the guardrail to rumble and her Pontiac to break through its gumwrapper resistence, rolling down the hill in crazy carnival cartwheels. In that minute infinity, her life did not flash before her eyes, and she did not finally find God. No, Roberta was a pragmatic, and spent her last second on this earth thinking only: "I really should have stopped for a coffee in Eugene."
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