down.
By the time I reached the window, I already knew something was wrong.
Kyle came around the corner too quickly.
Instead of completing the turn properly, he cut across my front lawn.
The rear tire went directly through Roy’s garden.
It happened in perhaps two seconds.
But I remember every part of it.
The tire cutting through the flowers.
Dark soil spraying behind it.
Several plants flattening beneath the wheel.
The curve Roy had designed nearly three decades earlier suddenly broken by a muddy track.
I put down my
