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He must have seen the fury in her eyes as she sprung up off her seat on the couch because he took a few steps backwards.
Instead of raising her hand to strike him or throw something, however, she moved quickly toward the door, where she grabbed the keys off the peg &, without saying a word, disappeared out the front door into the night.
Moments later, speeding down the windy, two-lane rural street, she blinked tears from her vision, remembering the words that had stung her heart & her pride so fiercely.
THAT’S what hurts, she thought, my pride.
Feeling quite the fool, trying to gather herself, she took a breath & wiped the tears from her face just in time to see the headlight beams coming toward her.
Too late to jerk the car back into her own lane, her last thoughts before impact were a silent plea for forgiveness from the man she left standing in the living room.
This post was written in participation of Six Sentence Stories, whose prompt this week was “beams.” Click here to see what others wrote. (Click here to see my entry from last week, if you missed it, complete with links to others’ entries.)