When I was in college, a professor asked me to choose one word to describe myself. I chose “driven” as the word to characterize my nineteen-year-old life.

Now, I only feel as though I’ve “driven” into a cliff wall.

After the ambulance drives away, no sirens necessary, the first responders stand around speculating about what happened.

“It was rainy last night. Maybe she just missed the curve,” the first one suggests.

“Nah, it was a Friday night. My guess is drunk,” another replies.

“Or maybe,” the third one offers in a hushed tone, "the time came for her to turn the wheel and she just…

…didn’t."