They Can Wait.
Driving down the road with you, laughing and talking. You make silly gestures while pretending to make the steering wheel go everywhere. After a few jokes, we get to actually talking. “Hey, did you hear about Stacy?” “No, I didn’t, what about her?” “Oh, she did…” Of course, normal teenager stuff. Who does what with who, where they did it at, all the fun topics. I love hanging out with you. All my days spent around you are the best ones. The light ahead of us goes red. You slow to a stop. We continue our discussion and eventually drift off into the songs from your playlist connected on Bluetooth. We drive on. After a while, the song goes into the background while the notification of a text comes in. You look down in the console area and pick up your phone and for a split second, I look down too- The shock is immediate. The one red light neither of us saw. The screeching of metal, the crunch of glass, the slicing of skin, breaking of bones… I feel the loss. It hit your side first. And that text for that person that didn’t get sent, will never be sent, should’ve never tried to be sent. Don’t text and drive. They can wait.
Two girls are driving together and having a good time. On the road, they talk and joke and have the average teenage driving experience. The narrator is the passenger and the other girl is the driver. The driver eventually tries to check a text on her phone, and the notification had distracted both girls. The car gets hit. It is implied that the driver dies. The passenger now wants to spread the word of the dangers of texting and driving.