I saw a guy get hit by a car last night. I was buying tacos from a truck when I heard tired screeching behind me and turned around right at the moment of impact. The guy thudded pretty hard and shattered the windshield of the car before he bounced onto the pavement. I was one of a few people who saw it happen; one guy ran to the dude in the street and started trying to comfort him, another dude called 911, and I snapped pictures of the driver’s license plate just in case she fled. Which she didn’t.
It wasn’t that shocking. I didn’t feel much. I assumed the man was dead, but he wasn’t.
Still, he was in bad shape. The blood from his head trickled towards me as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for the police, it was a very bright red and seemed thick like syrup.
The man was calm, but the lady who hit him was not. It looked for a second like she was going to flee, but she was just pulling her car to the side of the road. She was very distraught about what happened, and nobody seemed to know the right thing to say to her. One guy was telling her not to worry; “you have your license, right? It was just an accident, you’ll be fine,” as if the only thing she had to be concerned about was her own well-being.
By everyone else’s statements, it seemed like it was indeed an accident. There was no crosswalk, it was late and the man was wearing dark clothing. For my part, I didn’t see anything until the moment of impact so I can’t really say that the driver was or wasn’t being duly diligent with the laws of the road.
They got the man off the road quickly, and it didn’t take long to give my statement. I went back to the taco stand and got my order – I went to the crosswalk to cross, and ended up running into a couple of my friends. After I ate my tacos, I went to bed pretty easily.
As I slept, a huge fire engulfed an apartment complex in downtown LA about a half mile away from my house. Regrettably, I missed that entirely.