She left the car.

The car with a broken windshield and a bloody dashboard.

Her husband, the only passenger left. Lying there staring with lifeless eyes, at life in the eyes.

She left the car.

Her feet dragged her own body. The empty street stretched on for a lifetime.

Her arms reached out to touch the end, but all she found were endless miles of a pitch black river, tugging her down it’s current.

She left the car.

Her phone sat useless, now, on the seat.

Two percent, three numbers, four words.

“Help him,” and then again, because no other words made sense.

Frozen hands, melting lights, blues and reds collide. They had come. Help him.

Her legs let go, as she pleaded with the strobing colors. She sunk into the ebony asphalt.

Red, Blue, Red, Blue

Help me.

Hope leaked through the trees and struck her in the chest.

The longing suspense acted as a lifebuoy for her tired body.

Suddenly,

Pink, White, Pink, White

Nobody is coming.

The billboard peered at her through the trees, teasing her sunken eyes.

Soon they would be lifeless too. She turned to face the stars.