Memories of that night, the trailer truck crashing and falling over the rickety cliff of Truby beach, flashed through my mind each time I closed my eyes. Tossing and turning in bed, slumber came to me in fragments throughout the night. And they were still dreams of the truck driver in the distance, the night sky too dark to make out a figure. I wondered if Vincent looked like his father. If his father had the same black hair color and points at the tip of his ears like him. Did they share the same laugh and smile? If his father was around, would he have to work so much to help his mother feed his three other siblings?
As the neon red lights glowed four a.m. on the clock, I kicked the heavy sheets off my body in agitation. My past kept creeping closer. I could feel their hands from behind
