This is a picture I did not take

of a woman in a black Honda, obliviously skidding through a crosswalk in the rain into the intersection of 18th and Eureka, coming to a stop in front of a man dressed like a parking pylon, wearing a bright orange slicker and bright yellow shoes, a slim six inches from running him over while she stared at her cell-phone as if it held the answer to a question that was worth running over a parking pylon in the rain, and when looking up at him, her lips made a small, tight circle, and her eyebrows rose as if she were experiencing the first complete thought in her short life, and when his umbrella smacked down on her windshield, turning itself inside out like a trumpet flower, she slowly, guiltily stepped on the gas, and seeing her flee with one hand on the wheel and one still wrapped around her phone, the man's yellow-shoed foot met her already dented backseat door (must have been the meeting of a previous pedestrian and a totally awesome cell-phone call), creating a beautifully satisfying crunch.