Finding Something Special

Ben Foster turned the truck into his apartment’s parking space and shoved the gear into Park. Instead of turning off the engine, he let it thrum around him, through him, feeling the rhythm of the vibrations. He closed his eyes, and immediately the image of the car’s headlights flashed in his mind. The spike of fear returned, as though the accident were happening all over again.

He opened his eyes, and the image disappeared. Only the gleam of the streetlamps around the apartment building cast a dull light to stave off the night. He took a breath, then another, letting each one ease through pursed lips. Slowly, a calm returned. He was fine. That woman was fine. And unlike the accident that took his father’s life, no one died tonight.

With a quick twist of his wrist, he turned the key, and the engine shut off. A moment later, he retrieved his guitar from the passenger side and locked the truck. The weight of the instrument felt almost foreign to him. It seemed like a lifetime since he’d left the bar where he’d been performing with the band tonight.

He inhaled the musky autumn night air, letting the coolness permeate his chest. Winter wasn’t far off, but for now, he welcomed the scent of the earth getting ready for hibernation. This particular scent was something he’d missed while stationed in the Middle East, with its barren wasteland and dry heat.

Taking one last glance around, he noted that the parking lot of the small apartment complex looked the same as always. The neighbor’s cars were in their assigned parking, indicating everyone was home for the night.

It was after two a.m. The bars were closed, and the sidewalks were rolled up for the night. All was as it should be, except for him. Perhaps some sleep and a normal start to the day tomorrow would allow his world to right itself. Lately, he recovered from episodes much quicker. But those triggers hadn’t been as life-threatening as a near-head-on collision.

The first task was to stop thinking about what could have happened and focus on the good of what did happen. Thinking about the pretty woman in the other car would be pleasant enough—and she was safe. He’d start there.