She does not see the young man that drove the stolen car that summer night; the car that hits the girl who had so much potential, a love of life and a talent for dance. She cannot see the ambulance crew arrive, their frantic efforts to save her and the sense of hopelessness as all is lost. She does not see the policemen sent to the girl’s house, the knock on the door and the look of disbelief in her mother’s face. She cannot imagine her grief and the sense of loss which does not diminish.

She does not see the driver, sitting in the wreckage of the stolen car, the pain from his broken ribs dulled by alcohol. She cannot see the policeman, holding in his emotions as he makes the arrest. She does not see herself staring across the court as the foreman of the jury delivers their verdict.

She sees a future lawyer, a doctor, a businessman. She watches from the doorway, full of love. She gazes on him, full of fun, life and potential. She sees a sleeping child, her son.


About Peter Domican
Marketer and change professional. Writer and photographer.

3 Responses to Sleep

  1. Lisamarie says:

    Wonderful – clever story.

  2. Anne Michaud says:

    Good twist – very powerful story. So true that drunk drivers, murderers and rapists were probably loved as children, too… Food for thoughts, thanks for that:)

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