Andalyn didn’t remember getting out of the car, but there she stood in a field of mown hay, clutching her right leg under her armpit; and there it was, her yellow Toyota embracing a gray van like lovers spooning. Old habits die hard, she thought. Here she was at the scene of an accident, and she’d had enough presence of mind to get out of her vehicle with all her possessions: her purse, her car registration, even her severed leg.
She was rather proud of herself for remembering all her parts. Most of the time, she forgot something important, like her checkbook or her grocery list or enough cash for refreshments at the movie theater. She usually ended up borrowing a few bucks from a friend. She hated that about herself, being beholden to people. That usually meant she’d have to loan money to others in order to continue the karmic gift of giving.
Originally published Boise State University / cold-drill magazine 2000