His parachute did not open. He knew it would not open. He was going close to 300 miles an hour, that was what it felt like. The air screamed past filled with the scent of popcorn, oil, and perfume. He could see the ground approaching fast. He tried to picture his wife’s face—the demeanor that made the expected always new and fresh. She spiritually inherited every single moment. His car finally reached the end of the drag strip and hitting dirt it immediately flipped into the air. It was then that he heard a bang. He floated down to earth.
By Richard Edenfield