The Last Seven Minuets; Prolouge

    I don’t think my dad did what he did intentionally. He was mad at me; at what I’d done. And just like that, I didn’t mean to. It was an accident, but it was almost accidentally accidental. My father was in an elevated state of elation. It was my fault, I make no attempt to deny that, it would be a waste of energy. I will have to testify that it was my fault what happened, that placement rests solely with my father. He was the one who broke the law, he was runnin’ it ー literally.
    I do not blame him, I hope he doesn’t blame himself, he probably will. My own testification upon this will not change that this was his fault. It was his improper judgment that caused this. He thought he could make it, but the light flipped red halfway through. Perhaps partial responsibility could be placed upon the other person, a woman with reading glasses propped on a smashed in crumpet nose, who dashed across the hundred meter run finish line during some sort of Olympic event. Well, I guess there is evidence to prove karma exists.
    I got my karma too. It isn’t good karma. Despite that, I will not say I deserved this. I have done some doubtfully terrible things. The actions themselves weren’t bad, but the waving ripples they caused tore some people I know apart. My father is included, that’s why he was so angry because this wasn’t the first nor the worst. I wonder if it was some sort of subconscious reaction to my actions. Maybe, I do deserve this. I don’t know, I probably do.
After a person dies, they have seven minutes of mental activity left inside of their skull. They say that in those minutes that your life flashes before your eyes. That everything that’s happened in your life from the point you can cognitively register ー which is from the moment you’re born ー to the point in your life that you're at right now all flows through your mind. They say that even though you’re dead, you’re alive. I wouldn’t know, but I believe in it. It’s like your body, mind, and soul processing everything that has happened to you. It makes sense that some sifting and sorting would be needed to get everything right, so you could move on to whatever was waiting in the afterlife if one even exists.
    I’ve always have had an interest in death. I wanted to know what it would feel like. I don’t think I have had the chance yet. I think right now I am dying. I don’t feel anything. But, I don’t want to die. I’m probably just dreaming.