It was soon after they finished their evening meal that tiredness overcame her.
After a brief discussion about her hectic day and the extra overtime hours she had spent at the factory, he suggested that she turn in early. She’d made her way to bed and he was washing up several minutes later when he remembered his car’s fuel gage. He’d noted how low it was and intended to get the tank topped up on the way home. It had slipped his mind. He didn’t want to stop in the morning and decided to go out when he’d finished drying and putting away. Upstairs, he silently checked on her. She was fast asleep. He would make as little noise as possible getting the car out.
Because it was mid-evening and there was a fair bit of fog around, the station was quiet and he quickly filled up and was on his way back when he remembered his petrol cap. He hadn’t replaced it! He’d done this before. Would it still be under the bar of his roof rack where he usually wedged it? He would have to pull over. The car pulled off onto the edge of a soft verge and he got out. He was feeling for it in the dark when powerful headlights blinded him.
The truck driver saw the car, but not the man.
The impact was quick and fatal.
At that moment, she wakes violently from the deepest of sleeps and sits up in bed. “Are you OK?” she calls.