You thought you’d be fine going out tonight. You were a kid, and nothing bad ever happened to you. At the prime age of sixteen, you felt like the world was yours. You went out with your friends every Friday, making a ruckus in the streets. You put off your homework assignments until the last minute, despite your mother constantly nagging you. Life was too short not to have fun. When you finally got your car, you felt even more free than ever. Never again would you have to depend on your parents to take you where you had to go. You could take your buddies out to the river, the arcade or the mall. It was so exciting and you couldn’t even count all the adventures you would have. Your best friend was celebrating his eighteenth birthday party, and you knew you had to come. Driving down the street, you heard your phone vibrate near you. Picking it up, you read a text from him, asking where you were. You were about to respond that you were on your way. Then you were hit. When your best friend found out, he fell to the ground, sobbing for you to come back. His birthday party became a nothing but a horrifying memory. Your parents were shocked to hear the police officer at the front door announce your death. Your mother began to wail in despair while your father wept, wishing things were different. Your friends at school never forgot you, either. Some time after they heard the news, they made a memorial for you, highlighting how friendly and confident you were in yourself, and how you inspired everyone around you. All of them miss you so much. They wish you were still here. Was picking up your phone really worth it?