There’s an intersection I go to. Insignificant except for its proximity to a school, yet profound in my mind as the scene where I took two lives.

Everyone thinks that they’re a good driver. I had held this view for many years before a night when a stoplight went out and I rejoiced at the prospect of getting home a few moments sooner.

They had stopped and proceeded. I had not.

The company Christmas party had been a bore as usual. Two drink tickets at the country club had done nothing for me and I was not about to pay for an overpriced beer out of pocket. Sometimes I wish for the excuse of intoxication.

After the ambulance ride to the hospital I wondered why no one else had been brought in from the scene. The realization dawned soon that the other victims would not be brought to an emergency room.

Their family grapples with the loss of two of its own.

I am left with nothing but medical costs, lost hours, and insurance rate hikes.

The cost of murder never seems to find its way onto a monthly statement.