Anyone there that night would tell you the light had been green. The girl in the red Ford pick up would say she didn’t see me until the last minute. They would all agree that they thought I had died. All I remember was the girl. They said I’d been hallucinating. I wasn’t. I saw her. I saw her. I wasn’t hallucinating.

I’m back on the corner where it happened. I shift a little, my crutches sliding on the frozen concrete. It’s been almost a year since the Accident. Eight months of surgery and therapy and four months to work up the courage to come back and find her. I fear it’s a frail thing, my sanity. Dr. Thompson says I suffer from delusions brought on by the odd pulses in my cerebral vortex, whatever that is. In other words, I hallucinate. He gave me some pills. I’m suppose to take two a day. My fingers clinch the prescription bottle in my pocket. I haven’t taken my pills to day. I don’t want to be doped up when I find her. I want to know why she’s been crying.

You see, I’d been trying to save her that night. I had just gotten back from a dinner date. It hadn’t gone that well. It had been cold that night, just like this night. I’d been standing on the corner; right across the street was the parking garage where my car had been waiting. I’d been standing next to a guy. We were waiting for the light and the WALK signal. That was when I heard the crying. A horrible sobbing. I had looked at the guy beside me wondering if he had heard I too, but he’d still been chomping away at this apple, acting as though everything had been normal. The sobbing again and I had turned, trying to find her. Then I’d found her running towards me, her coat flapping in the breeze, her hand swiping at the tears in her eyes. She hadn’t been paying attention. To the light and I’d known that. She’d been going to run straight into the street right in the path of the red Ford truck that had been coming a 45 mph. I had to try and save her so as I realized she wasn’t stopping I ran out into the street to shove her aside, out of the way of the truck. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital and Dr. Thompson asking me if I was suicidal. Turns out I was just crazy. I’m here tonight to prove that I’m not, I wasn’t, crazy. I saw her. Tonight is the night. I don’t know how I know, it just is.

My coat flaps in the breeze and I watch the cars zoom pass. The setting brings me shivers. I’ve been standing here the past 20 minutes, getting strange looks. It’s 10:23 p.m. and in 60 seconds it will be the first anniversary of the Accident. Suddenly I hear something. I look sideways at the guy eating an apple beside me.

“Did you say something?” The guy looks at me funny and shakes his head, his apple stuck in his mouth. He probably thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not because I can hear it again. When I figure out what I’m hearing, there’s 34 seconds left. I freeze. I’m not crazy. I turn awkwardly and my disbelieving eyes find her. Oh God, I’m not crazy. I can tell. This time it’s different, people notice her. As she races past they turn to stare. She’s crying (Why?). She doesn’t know that the light is green and the DON’T WALK sign is on. I’m not crazy! 20 seconds. A red SUV is hurtling down the street. 15 seconds. The girl is 30 yards away. 10 seconds. 10 yards away. 5 seconds. The girl is right next to me, rushing pass. The guy shouts out and reaches for her, his apple crashing on the concrete, but he is too late to stop her.

But I’m not. I knew. I knew and I will not fail this time. I will save her. Crutches clatter down and I jump as she passes, my whole body screaming in pain, the recently reknitted muscle in my left leg ripping afresh from my bone.

3… the SUV is right on top of us and she’s frozen, realizing what is happening…

2… my body slams into her real flesh and I know I’m not crazy…

1… Please God let us make it.

Accidents are a part of life. I’ve had the same accident twice now. At least I know this one was real. I’m not going to make it. The girl will though. I never will find out why she’s crying, but as I lie in this street for the second time, my body broken, I reach up and wipe the tears from her very real face. My last words are no more than a whisper, but I know she hears them.

“Don’t cry.”