Yet under the blanket.
I’m not sure if I’ll be able to tolerate the flying vermin which have infested my house for the last three months long enough to blog this, but I’ll try. As I said recently, I don’t look like I’m typing; thanks to the fruit flies which attend every vegan hippie like the pages surrounding Cleopatra, I look like I’m Carol Channing, playing to the back rows on Broadway.
But I’ll try.
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I didn’t really believe it. None of us really believed it. Until the blanket. Until they pulled out the blanket and draped it over him and even then, still, some primal instinct within us was wishing, hoping, truly believing that they’d tuck it under his chin and say, “There you go, Fred,” and he’d say thanks, it’s cold out, but the only one who said it was cold out was the nurse who’d been working on him ever since the car hit him.
And as they pulled the blanket up over his face, it got even colder.
raincoaster 
Okay, my curiousity is piqued ….
*Waits expectantly*
Not much to tell. I saw a guy die last night. He’d been hit by a car as he tried to run across the Georgia Viaduct. I may write more later, but that’s all I had to say last night.
oh my :(
I’m still a little freaked out about it. Can’t write out the whole thing. The poor guy: I just hope he didn’t suffer.
You captured the moment. Like a good reporter should. Any more would make you an author.
And I’m babbling because of the senseless tragedy which occurs every day on our roads. So sad.