It wasn’t his fault. Heavy rain.
The broken headlights illuminated the body. Motionless, except for a few final twitches from the nervous system.
Rain diluted and washed away blood that trickled from the head.
An examination of the front bumper revealed a dent. Anything could have caused it.
He checked for a pulse and considered calling 9–1–1. But why? It was too late.
“I hit a deer.” He practiced the alibi as he took deep breaths on the journey homeward.
He slammed on the brakes after hitting a squirrel.
“The squirrel will live,” said the vet. He sighed tremendous relief.
