I stand frozen in shock. There is an excruciating knot in my throat.
The driver of the white Ford, a man of color in a plain T-shirt and work pants, opens the car door and steps out. Regretfully, he looks at me. “Little girl,” he questions, “is that your puppy?”
My chin trembles uncontrollably. Tears trickle down my checks. My throat is so constricted that I’m unable to speak. I am only able to nod my head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit him.” The man explains, “It was an accident.”
Somehow, I manage to choke out in a trembling voice, “I know.”
The vibrations of my sobbing pull me back into physical existence and out of the phantom world of nightmares. My eyes open; although, my breathing is still a bit erratic. Sweat covers my forehead, upper lip and the back of my neck.
Reality and relief wash over me. “Thank God. It’s just another damned dream!” In psychological terms, it’s a flashback - a moment when part of my tortured past comes back to haunt me.
The driver of the white Ford, a man of color in a plain T-shirt and work pants, opens the car door and steps out. Regretfully, he looks at me. “Little girl,” he questions, “is that your puppy?”
My chin trembles uncontrollably. Tears trickle down my checks. My throat is so constricted that I’m unable to speak. I am only able to nod my head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit him.” The man explains, “It was an accident.”
Somehow, I manage to choke out in a trembling voice, “I know.”
The vibrations of my sobbing pull me back into physical existence and out of the phantom world of nightmares. My eyes open; although, my breathing is still a bit erratic. Sweat covers my forehead, upper lip and the back of my neck.
Reality and relief wash over me. “Thank God. It’s just another damned dream!” In psychological terms, it’s a flashback - a moment when part of my tortured past comes back to haunt me.
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