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You rush into the bathroom.  You throw your hair up into a tight bun and grab your makeup bag from the bathroom cabinet so you can get ready on the way.  You throw on one of your nicer suits with the hopes of trumping your disheveled appearance with an upgraded wardrobe.  You fly out of the front door and down the steps, nearly tripping over a child's to car, left carelessly on the stoop.  You curse the little car for nearly ending your life and you jump in your own little car.  You jam on the gas and speed down the road.  


    As always, traffic is ridiculous.  It never fails, when you are running late there is always going to be a traffic jam.  "Fuck Murphy and his law"  you exclaim and you veer off the main road onto a small residential street.  You blow thorugh the small unmarked intersections with a brief observation of each as you approach.  You are almost to work.  You will only end up being a few minutes late at this rate.  You tilt the rearview mirror towards you and quickly decorate your face while simulatiously watching the road in front of you.  Suddenly your eyes jerk forward and your hands drop the eyeliner as you clutch the steering wheel frantically.  A large moving truck pulls out from a side alley directly in your path.  You yank the steering wheel to the right, sending your car sliding right, then left, narrowly avoiding the huge truck.  You flip off a mover that was directing the truck as you speed by, breathing a sigh of relief over your close call.  You glance forward just in time to see a car barrelling towards you.  You have no time to react.  You smash head on into the oncoming car.  


   You wake up with the deflated air bag dangling from the center of your steering wheel.  The interior of your car is unrecognizable.  crumpled metal surrounds you, leaving only the small area that you are sitting seemingly untouched.  You feel no pain but are unable to move your legs.  You can't see them, crushed beneath the dash that has been forced back and down.  You begin to panic, unable to pry yourself from the wreckage, or even the driver's seat.  your hands are covered in blood and your vision is blocked out periodically as a gaping head wound drains crimson down your forehead and into your eyes.  You can make out figures rushing to the scene from surrounding homes and vehicles. 

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