Mortality: 0-4 You sit with your hands in your lap, trying not to fall asleep as the policeman reads

you the details of what just happened. You killed a family, not just one person but four. There s no blood but there s four body bags in a circle. A foreboding image to what will come next. You should ve paid attention but nodded off to Hank Williams soft crooning of I m so lonesome I could cry while thinking of your own family, the one long gone when the timber fell from the truck and woke you suddenly too late. Timber covers the damp highway and sticks out of the windshield of the now dismantled Hyundai Santé Fe, the family edition. Your truck, well it used to be yours, is in perfect condition except for the shattered trailer hitch from the twisting of timber. The police search the cab for evidence of drugs and alcohol and find nothing but an old cassette tape case with Hank Williams staring back through the plastic. You look on towards the fading sun that lights up the purple sky as the police read you your Miranda rights and tell you not to speak because they know it will only get you into trouble. You re a stereotype, the five out of seven truck drivers that fall within the incompetent category. Wait until they hear this, back home where you re nothing more than a useless man. Many images of that unassuming, terrified family fill your head as you lower it to get into the squad car and you think to yourself How could one man with nothing to go home to, ruin someone else s dream?

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