The door slammed, echoing down the long hall.
Rob sat in the cell rubbing his hands over his jeans. The ink on his fingertips remained, reminding him of this nightmare he was in.

Fragments of the night before exploded in his aching head.

He remembered the farewell party that his girlfriend Sophie had organized.
He was leaving the next day for three months in Spain, working for his uncle on his vineyard.

At the thought of Sophie, his heart sunk.

She was crying last night, pulling on his shirt when he was leaving. She had grabbed for his keys, but he dangled them above her head, laughing at her worries.

Then a vision of the accident caused him to gasp.

Oh no, what had he done!?

When the police had shoved him into the police car, Rob had seen the crushed car as emergency workers tried to get the people out.

Now, Rob held his head in his hands as dismay swept over him.

He had heard the police talking as he sat waiting last night. There had been three people in the car and two were pronounced dead.

Absentmindedly, he reached into his pocket and sadly removed the useless airline ticket.
The irony was not lost on him as he I checked his watch, then the ticket.

Flight # 539 to Spain was just taking off, without him.