by Sharon Frame Gay
She kills me every day. I loop round and round in time, coming back to the moment when she backs her car into me as I cross behind her with the groceries.
"John! Oh John!" she cries, as the oranges and apples roll under the rear tires. The last thing I see are the eggs, crushed and seeping from their shells, running into my blood.
I do not see a light for my soul to follow. I only hear her sobbing to the police.
Frightened and sad, I relive this moment forever.
I can always tell when she is lying.
Author bio: Bio: Sharon Frame Gay has been internationally published in many anthologies and literary magazines including Chicken Soup For The Soul, Thrice Fiction, Crannog, Typehouse, Lowestoft Chronicle and others. She has won awards at Rope and Wire, The Writing District, Wow-Women On Writing, and has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
Reverse is part of 101 Fiction issue 25.