A crash.
A gasp.
"Are you okay?"
Gasping, gasping, gasping.
No other reply.
I was on the phone with a coworker. She was driving - using her Bluetooth, hands-free - and we were debriefing some events from earlier in the day. I was midway through my assessment when I heard a thud an exclamation, and then nothing but gasping.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Sharp wheezing intakes of breath.
Gasp, gasp, gasp.
"Are you okay? Was it a wreck? I'm calling 9-1-1."
I made sure an ambulance was on the way.
I made sure someone had called her husband.
I called her back.
This time, she answered.
"I'm okay," she said.
And that's when my own breath went ragged.
A gasp.
"Are you okay?"
Gasping, gasping, gasping.
No other reply.
I was on the phone with a coworker. She was driving - using her Bluetooth, hands-free - and we were debriefing some events from earlier in the day. I was midway through my assessment when I heard a thud an exclamation, and then nothing but gasping.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Sharp wheezing intakes of breath.
Gasp, gasp, gasp.
"Are you okay? Was it a wreck? I'm calling 9-1-1."
I made sure an ambulance was on the way.
I made sure someone had called her husband.
I called her back.
This time, she answered.
"I'm okay," she said.
And that's when my own breath went ragged.
takes my breath away
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