That’s not the sort of thing you relish hearing, or saying, at a wreck scene. Nor is picking up all those pieces of meat and deciding what goes in which body bag.
Two wrecks, seven fatalities within a few hours of each other, and nary a one within the sunny side of twenty-one years old. The two that lived, if indeed you can call it that, will be permanently damaged.
Alcohol, speed and stupidity.
And waste. It’s soul-wearying.
*sigh*
That’s another new set of mangled faces deposited in the Nightmare Bank.


















