hit

I saw his eyes through the windshield. I think I saw fear, panic, though I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast. The car was there, back there, then it was on me. I still remember the sound of the impact. It was dull. Sort of hollow. Not a thud. Different. Then I was down. The next thing I saw was the car. Thirty feet ahead, stopped, engine running, still, exhaust pluming in the gray, misty afternoon. He took forever, it seemed, to exit the car and when he did, his face bore a look that seemed a cross between anger and terror. He was older, dressed in a suit. I felt badly for him. Imagine that. But I did. Everyone around was telling me to lie still. Hell, I wasn’t going anywhere.