She never found out what it was she was meant to look at.
She was tired; they both were. It had been a long day. The birthday party had been a lot of fun; great for the kids. Her seven year old had swelled with pride when he handed over his school-friend’s present. He had saved up for months to buy it. He was slumped in the passenger’s seat now, staring sleepily at the road ahead.
It had rained earlier, leaving the roads shiny. It was getting dark and she switched on the lights.
Out of the blue, he shouted “Mum, look at that!” pointing through his side window. When she glanced across she saw nothing of interest, just shops.
Before she could focus on anything the whole world stopped with a deafening explosion.
The car was still. Somewhere there was a hissing sound and the lights of another vehicle were blinking orange, lighting up the car’s interior. She saw what had been done to her son. She had never been firm enough with him about wearing his seat belt properly.
She sat back with her eyes closed, aware of the warm trickle running down her face.
Just before she let out one slow and final breath, she murmured softly.
“Look at what dear?”