I Swear

“I swear, sometimes you are worse than your mother.”

The words stung, a slap across the face sending her glasses flying up and over in an arc to shatter against the marble floor, a jolt from a pickup truck running a red light smashing into the side of the car, airbags exploding, the fine lines of an engineered luxury car crumpled into used tissue paper, the world folding in upon itself as it slips over the event horizon into a ravenous black hole.

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