Things that bring us to our knees. Things that threaten everything we think we know. Things that make us say, Oh ****. And only oh **** will do. Even if you’ve not cursed in decades, you know only oh **** will do. You don’t need a period or any punctuation for that matter because it’s not over; there’s no time to pause. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.

How does it feel? Like the sting of the wind on a fresh cut. Only worse. Because the bleeding won’t stop. There’s no Bandaid big enough. You start to hold your breath and bite your lip because you’re watching your very life, the marrow from your bones, ooze onto the pavement in front of you. And you just want to hold on — if only to this breath. To life as you knew it this morning or yesterday or the day before that.

How is this happening? You’re in shock. This isn’t supposed to be happening.