The beep of a heart monitor.

I’m sorry.

That sounds empty and hollow, but I need to say it. I need to tell you.

I’d been delayed. I didn’t see you step off the curb, by then it was too late.

I panicked.

I thought if I kept going, driving I could get away. No one would know.

I know.

The rasp of a ventilator.

I close my eyes and see you. Bathed in the watery glare of my headlights. Lying on the wet pavement growing smaller in the rear view mirror.

Fading from sight.

Never gone.

If I could do it over again, do things differently?

Would I?