Just Another Day

Today, just before noon, a woman was hit by a truck on Sixth Avenue just north of 23rd Street, and died on the scene.
I didn’t see it happen, but when I got there, on my way to an appointment, and asked someone what happened, the man I spoke to told me and said that her body was still there.
This poor poor woman. Probably crossing the street to get something cold to drink, or maybe pick up something to snack on at her desk. Woke up this morning thinking it was just another day, another Monday, another hot day in the city. But it was OK, because she knew she could get something cold to drink at that little store across the street.
I imagine the final milliseconds of her consciousness. The moment of her last breath. The police going through her things for identification. The calls they have to make. Her life gone, and that of her family and friends changed forever.
I come home and want to continue writing what I started before I left for my appointment late this morning, just before noon, but find that I can’t manage the upbeat tone of the piece. I can only pour some iced coffee, get myself a snack, and thank “god” I am here.