Into the road without hesitation,the other side as certain as the grass and hawk weed parting there, for the brief passage of fur, ears back, paws leaving and returning to the surface of the soft and grassy earth. And then I was there behind the wheel; unprepared for its smallness, for the sudden quiver and tenderness there in the road among the potholes.
There was an instant; a fraction of a second really when we both wavered, I could feel it. I could feel the inevitable, sliding of the future toward this instant, now.
I could see the rabbit's honey eyes, his small slight body, ears erect, brown, no bigger than a loaf of bread.
I hit it. I couldn't help it. It happened so fast.
I cried the whole way to the store; the boys all watching my display of emotion anxiously from the quiet of the truck's cab.
When we returned I couldn't help but look, there, at the side of the road among the quartz pebbles and daisy petals, blood spilling from it's small crushed skull, wasps and flies already there, and later, when we passed again its small body and been lifted into the hazy summer air.