The sound of metal on flesh was deafening.
Rain hammered the windshield as Rebecca Grant screamed, white-knuckled hands frozen on the steering wheel. A child's red balloon drifted upward into the night sky, its string trailing from the small shoe left in the crosswalk.
“Oh my God," she whispered. “Oh my God, oh my God..."
She staggered out of the car, heels slipping on wet asphalt, mascara running in black rivulets. The boy didn't move.
Then headlights sliced through the rain.
Ryan's Porsche screeched to a halt behind her.
“Rebecca?" he shouted, vaulting out. “What the hell—?"
“I didn't see him!" she sobbed, grabbing his coat. “He ran out! I tried to brake—he just—he flew—"
Ryan looked down.
The boy was still. Blood pooled beneath his head. The balloon disappeared into the storm.
