The sky was black and full of rain but I was happy. My hands were loose and carefree as I drove through the flooded streets. My car moaned as its engine sucked up water and dirt.

I wasn’t worried about making it home, I wasn’t worried about anything. Not the storm. Not the look on my mother’s face when I would walk through the living room dripping water onto her newly cleaned Persian rug. Not how many beers my dad had had that night.

It was as if the contents of the letter sitting proudly on the seat next to me had erased everything negative in my life leaving only pure hopefulness for the future. I had dreamed of getting away from the town, my parents, my memories. And now I could.

A loud crash of thunder ripped through the air shaking the world around me. Another crash of thunder and suddenly everything was pitch black save for my headlights bravely fighting their way through the thick curtain of rain in front of them. I slowed down, my hands tightened on the wheel. I debated if I should pull over and wait out the storm out. I slowed down some more and looked down at the pristine white envelope gleaming brightly on my seat. I bit my lip.

I’d been waiting for storms to pass my entire life. I was tired of waiting. I sped up. Hot determination filled me. I was going to make it home. I was going to pack my bags. I was going to leave this shitty life behind me and start over again somewhere far enough away that I couldn’t turn back.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the road before me. I slammed on my breaks as a car came careening towards me. I was too late. A clap of thunder dulled the screech of metal meeting metal. I screamed and threw my hands up, one covering my face the other reaching for the letter.

There was a loud boom, an orange flash, and then there was nothing.