Reblogged from Faith McCord at Little Lord Oscar Dandelion Books

I managed to climb out of the car, of which the front end was wrapped around the tree. Jim wasn’t so lucky. He was clearly crushed by the steering wheel column, his head snapped back and his face almost blue. He was dead; when I had somehow survived.

Other than a sprained wrist and the shock, I was unscathed by the accident. My head felt heavy and everything around me – the oak trees, the narrow road, the green classic car – all swam. I fell to my knees and blacked out.

Jim, the new owner of the cafe I liked for its cappuccinos, had taken a liking to me. That first date, he had driven up to my parents’ house, in the glossy green sportscar – that would have first turned heads in the Art Deco era.

“How old is he?” My irritated father had asked when I told him and my mother of our proposed date; a drive into the countryside and lunch in a pub there.

“36.” I knew it sounded old compared to my twenty years. However, I could never see myself interested in someone my age.

“Thirty-six? Julie, I don’t know if I can approve…”

Read the rest of Faith’s story here.