After the fateful last word, “Shotgun,” everything is blank. The account of life until the 2nd week of July is merely an interpretation of what friends and family have described to me.
Happy to have “won” the front passenger seat in S's car, I smiled at B who chided “damn-it Matt!” We exited the parking garage into the blackness of the night. Car lights flooded the city and horns honked as festival-goers were anxious to sleep in their own beds. When we finally made it to the expressway, we were greeted by a never-ending line of automobiles.
Just then B’s cellular phone rang. "L," a friend of ours, wanted to meet us for a nighttime coffee at a local hangout. L and I were becoming good friends, and I was excited to see her! I was becoming more and more attracted to her. She seemed to have something that Stephanie didn’t, and I liked that. S took an exit that would serve as a faster way to get to the coffeehouse.
As we flew down the winding back-road we picked up speed. From what I’ve been told, the last speed that was noted by my fellow passengers was 85 mph (in a 45 zone). As we came around a bend in the road, and drifted into the oncoming traffic lane, S saw a pair of headlights straight ahead of us. He tried to correct the car and lost control of the vehicle...
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