I just witnessed a gruesome accident at Franklin and Wilton in East Hollywood. I was heading north, crossing Franklin, in the crosswalk barely behind an older woman in a purple jumpsuit. A PT Cruiser with used car lot plates and wood paneling was facing south on Wilton, ready to go east on Franklin. Normally, in this situation, waiting for a left turn, you pull into the middle of the intersection but assume the cars opposite you will move at the same pace, and you let them go, and then, when you get an opportunity, usually after the light’s already turned yellow, you skip left. But this guy, sunglasses, carefully crafted goatee, thought he’d make his turn as soon as the light turned green, before the cars facing him had a chance to get moving, and as he did so, I saw that he would hit the woman, and I started to scream as loudly as I could, “No! No! No!” rather than “Stop!” And then I watched as he took out her legs, flung her into the air, and dropped her down on her head.
Nine o’clock in the morning, seventy degrees and sunny, as usual.
Tom Dibblee is Trop’s editor. His fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train and his nonfiction has appeared in Pacific Standard, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and the Point. He lives in Los Angeles.