The Day I Met Her (By: Rima)

        I was waiting in the long line of a coffee shop. I looked at the dull entrance of the store, expecting there to be nothing but the glass door and the hard, black metal surrounding it, but there was a tall girl entering. She was looking down at something; I assumed it was an iPod. She moved her way up to the line, not looking at anything besides the little black screen in her hands. She had long chocolaty brown hair, and I could tell she must have been around eighteen or nineteen, almost half my age. Finally, she looked up and caught me staring at her. Her jaw dropped, showing extremely white teeth. She walked up awkwardly towards me. As she got closer I noticed my face on the screen of her iPod.

           

        She nervously mumbled something about how much she loved my music. She told me how she had been to one of my concerts. I nodded politely and smiled, but I was tired of the same old routine. Just at that moment, I thought of how weird fame was. She knew so much about me; however I knew nothing about her. I had never seen her before, but she had seen me. I shivered thinking about it.  I offered her my autograph, but she refused. Now, this was new. She looked at me with a slight sadness in her eyes. I guess I wasn’t all that she hoped I would be.

           

         As I watched her leave, she waved good-bye. Once she was outside, she untied the leash of her dog that had been patiently waiting for her. I chuckled, knowing that she had left without buying a single thing. I was brought back to reality when the cashier asked me what I wanted to order.  I couldn’t remember what was previously on my mind. I glanced back at the entrance of the store, looking for the same girl. I could see her on the edge of the concrete sidewalk. She crossed at a green light, with her dog trailing a long distance behind her. What I saw next, scarred me for life.

          

          A slick black Audi hit her. I saw her body fly into the middle of the street. Cars honked, people screamed, I screamed. I saw people pull out their cell phones, frantically calling 911.  One minute she was strolling peacefully, legally, down the lane, the next she was dead. The car that had taken her life was speeding away from the scene. I didn’t understand. Was that a planned attack? I ran out of the coffee shop. I looked anxiously around me. What could I do? I could already hear the loud sirens of both the police and the ambulance. Then, I saw her old, black dog walking around her mangled body. I ran to fetch the animal. I didn’t want it to get hit by a car too. I cringed when I got close to her bloody remains. I put the scared dog in my arms, and sprinted away.

           

         Once I had gotten to my own luxurious car I drove away uncontrollably. I didn’t even know what I was doing. My hands were shaking against the sturdy steering wheel. I tried to breathe in and out, desperately needing to calm myself. My eyes scanned my surroundings, but my brain couldn’t seem to compute. Somehow I found the way to my house. I rushed inside, as if I was going to get help, but I knew no one would be there. I sat in the living room, still with the dog in my arms. I heard one of my songs come on  the radio. The last things I heard before passing out, were the soft whimpers of the poor, small dog, and my stupid voice in the background.