There's nothing better than the wind in your hair and the freedom of the open road. Engine revving, weaving in and out of unsuspecting cars on the highway. Sure, we were likely leaving irritation in our wake, but by the time that agitation even registered, we were miles ahead.

I preferred riding alone on my own motorcycle (his name is Greg) but riding with Brin on hers was second best. Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I whispered in her ear, "Faster." She glanced back, feeling my breath and perhaps sensing my desires.

As she turned her head, she lost her grip on the right handle, causing the bike to swerve towards the broadside of an 18-wheeler. I'll never remember the order of what happened next. It was as if everything happened at once and left my brain to sort out the sequence of events later.

Brin, sliding across the freeway. Me, screaming.

Cars honking, lights flashing.

By the time I regained my senses, I was in a hospital room being presided over by my mother.

"Mom," I thought I said. In actuality, what came out was more like a soft croak. Nevertheless, her head shot up from its position bent over a Time magazine.

Magazine forgotten, she rushed over to me. "Tay! Tay. Nurse!" she said, unsure whether to greet me first or notify the staff. "Tay, do you know what happened?"

"Brin," was all I could manage. Her face fell, and my world collapsed.