Tonya’s wild, tightly curled hair blew over the seat of the convertible, lifted by the powerful rush of air. Clutching the steering wheel firmly with her right hand, the young woman waved her left hand above the door. She enjoyed the cool caresses of the wind. Ever since she was a child, she had loved the wind. For some unknown reason, it gave her a feeling of freedom.

David reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, then offered a cigarette to Tonya, who was an occasional smoker – she mainly smoked at parties.

“No, thanks. They’re bad for you. I plan to quit them for good.”

“Your choice”, David replied.

“What do you say we visit my mom on Sunday? I know you’re not a fan of mothers-in-law, but there’ll be rabbit stew, and besides...”

At that moment, as they passed a truck, there was a resounding clang, like someone had struck a sheet of metal. Tonya screamed, and David turned toward her, startled both by her scream and by the warm drops that splashed his face. Tonya’s left hand was gone. The remains of the shattered joint jutted out in all directions, and blood gushed like fountains.