It was then that my wife spoke the words I'd been fearing to hear-words which chilled me to the bone. "A neighbor just called to say there is an accident down at the corner. They think one of the cars might be the one the kids were riding in." I couldn't speak. I couldn't think straight. I had seen what a bad accident that had been. They couldn't possibly have been involved in that crash. I had seen the tarps. Those usually meant that there had been fatalities.. No! It was too horrible to even consider. I felt all the energy draining out of my body, as if I became more exhausted than I'd ever been in my life. How could I have gone right passed the scene and not felt some sense of what was happening? How could I pass so closely to the scene of my son's death and not feel that something was horribly wrong?
   I muttered to my wife about having passed the accident on my way to the school. I could not bring myself  to voice my fears to her. She said she would meet me at the corner. We had to find out what was really going on. I raced to get to the scene before she did. I knew when she saw what had happened, she would begin to sense and fear the truth.