one second. one second. one second. now it’s three. three seconds to fasten what could keep, the seconds of life within your lungs. oh, but three seconds to find out if James cheated on Madeline. three seconds to flip the song you no longer like. as a teen we disregard the opinions of our parents seatbelts buckled. radio down. cell phone locked in the dash cubby. prevention shoved down our throats until it blocks our airways. and we think we know everything, we think that the ghost hovering over our dead bodies can push back three more seconds of life into our lungs. but it can’t. lifeless bodies traveled up into the air screeching down at the ones making their same mistakes. oh, how three seconds more could change the fate. three seconds to make the click, three seconds to flip the switch, three seconds to undo the “lol” three seconds, oh how we know it all too well.