A red moon rises. It is massive. I am on the road again, in the truck. I am behind the wheel. She will not take it. She has not driven in a long time. Last time she drove, a semi-truck slammed into the back of her car.
"How do you survive?" she had asked me, standing next to me, her twin on the other side.
"Miracle." I had told her.
I was in her car with her. My foot was up against the dash. Neither of the airbags went off. We were not injured. The car was totaled.