The Accident

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I really shouldn’t have, but I bought eleven Mars bars from my local Kiosk that day. As I stepped outside, I felt more disgusting than ever. Even though my arms are skeletal thin, it still looks like I’m hiding a football under my t-shirt.

Nausea crept in on me as I thought of the Mars bars in the bag, the cheap chocolate, the sickly sweetness, and I was afraid that I’d vomit then and there. I stood still for a while on the pavement, focusing on my breathing.

In, a long pause, out, in.

It was stupid this, I didn’t even want them. Why did I keep buying them? I clenched my hands around the plastic bag and twisted it as if I was twisting the neck of a chicken that had done me some great evil.

No, not today, the Mars bars would not get me today, and I flung out my arm to toss the bag away, but regret struck me at once and I tried to close my fingers around the handle, but it was already flying out onto the road and I followed it already thinking: ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it Mars bars,’ and as I ended on my knees on the road a car veered around me and collided with a young girl on a bicycle, the yellow dress of the girl billowing as she fell through the air.

Then she lay very still on the asphalt.

Then I fled with the Mars bars clutched to my chest.

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