My Year of Casual Acquaintances (South Bay #1)
PROLOGUE
3%
I pull out into the intersection as soon as the traffic light turns green, but I don’t see the black SUV bearing down on me until it’s too late. The mammoth vehicle smashes into the driver’s side of my little Prius, propelling my car across the wide road in what feels like slow motion.
They say your whole life flashes before you when you’re facing the possibility of death. But for me, it isn’t my full history on replay, it’s only my reinvented life – the one that began eight months ago. The faces of all the new people who’ve come and gone in this short time flash by in rapid sequence, their expressions solemn and detached. Whitney. Judith. Sunny. Nic. Connor. Cheryl. Audrey. Jax. Charlie.
Charlie. Charlie. Charlie.
The car stops spinning. My knees knock against each other with violent force. My back spasms. I groan and survey the damage around me. The windshield has disintegrated into a thousand tiny green pebbles that occupy my lap, the front seat, the floor, the pavement. Why didn’t the airbag deploy? You count on something – or someone – to protect you, but then when you need it most, it’s not there. Just like the people who paraded through my consciousness at the moment of impact.
I can’t worry about them now. All I can do is contemplate the wreck that is my car, the wreck that is my life.