Chapter 10 - The Drivers BelowI met Marcus Hale, the semi driver, three months later.
He had not been seriously hurt.
Neither had the other drivers.
That mattered more than anything.
Marcus was fifty-four.
He shook my hand.
“You don't owe me an apology.”
“I feel like I do.”
“You didn't throw anything.”
Same lesson.
Responsibility belongs where choice lives.
Marcus had dashcam footage.
He saw the prosthetic falling.
His evasive maneuver prevented a direct impact.
One passenger in another car sustained a shoulder injury.
A driver had a mild concussion.
Cars were damaged.
Insurance claims mounted.
Trent's act had consequences far beyond humiliating me.
Marcus said:
“I keep thinking about what would've happened if traffic was heavier.”
“So do I.”
“Don't.”
Easy advice.
Hard practice.
He smiled.
“I'm working on it too.”
We laughed.
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That was the strange thing about aftermath.
People connected by a terrible moment sometimes helped each other stop living inside alternate versions of what could have happened.
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