Shattered.

He loaded the last clear, plastic water bottle into the back of the white cargo van, slammed the metal double doors shut and made his way to the driver's seat. He pulled the black vertical handle on the dented door and stepped up into the cab. The grey, upholstered seat bounced slightly as his full weight rested in the seat. He reached out to his left and grabbed the worn handle and pulled the heavy door closed. It slammed and shook the various papers resting on the dust-ridden dash. The wrappers from his fast-food breakfast rustled under the large, heat magnifying front window. He tilted his wrist so as to allow his watch to slide out from under his coat jacket sleeve; it was 4:30 and Friday. He reached down onto his waist, unclasped the palm-sized phone from the plastic holder and punched 3 buttons; his wife was speed dial #1.

The pink flip-phone vibrated and sang a melody from her favorite sitcom television show. She fumbled in her purse as she searched for the source. Standing in the express checkout line with more than the allowed fifteen items, she shuffled through paper receipts, chapstick, her beige compact, apple-flavored gum, and the bottle of Bath and Bodywork's Magnolia Blossom Body Lotion. She found it flashing colors and lifted it out of her black Coach purse, flipping open the receiver with her thumb.

He spoke into the phone with an angry tone. It was time to go home and yet, on the other end of the line, was his boss who had now ordered him to deliver one more trailer load before the end of the workweek. He couldn't believe it, his horrible week only seemed to get worse. All he wanted to do was to clock out and go to his favorite, local bar and drown the scars of the week in the foam of his favorite 12-ounce draft. He turned over the ignition and the large semi engine rumbled to a start. It was already warm from driving around the city all day from doing deliveries. The rubber on its eighteen wheels was already soft and warm. The semi-truck was quickly loaded to allow him time for one last timely delivery of its important contents. The airbrakes hissed and the cab shook as he shifted the eighteen-wheeler into gear. Just one more delivery and his week would be over with. He floored the enormous vehicle and a plume of black smoke mushroomed into the air. His boss would know that he was mad. He sped through the city streets and found the on ramp to the highway. As he barreled down the ramp and onto the already congested highway, he reached for the radio and found his favorite country radio station.

He pulled his hand back from the volume knob as the talk-radio on AM radio filled the small white van's passenger compartment. His week was long, like usual, but he was happy it was Friday. He had talked to his wife and she was on her way home with a brown sack of groceries that would be his dinner that night. The kids were at his grandmother's house and all that awaited him at home was his wonderful wife and his golden puppy. Both, he knew, would be ecstatic the minute he walked in the door. Tonight was date night, and even though he had to work tomorrow afternoon, he didn't mind having to drive home the company van in rush hour traffic. The sun began to set and shot beautiful rays of white light directly into his windshield, causing him to fold down his visor, causing him to squint his tired eyes. He reached into a compartment looking for his sunglasses.

He placed the black, wrap-around sunglasses over his scared, worn face and slid the semi's transmission into a higher gear. He accelerated and weaved in and out of traffic, the sooner he delivered the trailer's contents, the sooner he could get back home and start his weekend. The sun, stretching from behind him and casting his own shadow in front of him, set behind the mountains. He pushed on the accelerator.

As he eased off the accelerator of the cargo van, because the slowing traffic in front of him, he saw an opening in the left lane. He signaled, looked carefully over his left shoulder, and eased the white van into the number one lane. He was going seventy in a fifty-five, but was alright with that because everyone else was too. He was on his way home. It was date night.

She moved the dial to forty-five minutes. The oven timer was set strategically for her husband’s arrival. She hoped to hear the garage door open, and her husband pull in, as the oven timer began it’s beeping.

The beep from the small sedan bounced off the large semi. It didn't startle him in the least. He didn't hear it because he was moving so quickly and the radio was dialed all the way to max. The sun at his back, he accelerated.

Moving quickly, accelerating to pass the slower vehicle leaking a cloud of white, pungent odor from its exhaust, he grasped the steering wheel with both hands. The roads were becoming thinner, trickier to navigate. He hated driving the white van this fast.

She set the table, put what food was ready on the new table linen she bought at Crate & Barrel. She went to the refrigerator and bent down looking for the chilled bottle of sparkling wine.

He looked up from the floorboard of the semi where he dropped his invoice and was surprised to see the SUV in front of him. He swerved right, but then realized the lane was occupied. He swerved left.

The van braked suddenly. Red lights flashed in the near distance. Why were people slowing? Why were they swerving right?

She stopped, causing her sneakers to squeak on the white, linoleum kitchen floor. She had forgotten the wine glasses.

He turned the large semi wheel to the left, overcorrecting. The brakes locked and the large trailer began to slide away from him, smoke steamed from the burning rubber on the highway.

In front of him, on the other side of the highway divided by a concrete barrier, he saw the cause for the braking cars. Smoke was lifting off the highway like steam. He looked to his right. A car. To his left, the concrete barrier. Ahead, a semi out of control.

He over-adjusted the large semi steering wheel once again, attempting to force the large beast back to the right and away from the barrier and the oncoming traffic. The tires turned but the semi continued on its destructive path. There was no going back.

He slammed his right foot on the large rectangular brake pedal. It felt as though he had pushed it through the floorboard of the white van.

The large left wheel of the semi climbed the concrete barrier. The force of the weight of cargo continued to push him forward. The front cab of the semi was lifted into the air.

It sailed in slow motion ahead of him. A white semi cab aloft in the mountain air, its shadow, from the setting sun, ominously engulfing his field of vision. The sharp rays of the sun were now gone. It was instantly cold. Shadow enveloped his world. His life went into slow motion. Who would tell his wife?

The fragile glass exploded all over the ground. She stood there, momentarily, as she was engulfed with a feeling of loss. She knelt down and tried to pick up the pieces, but couldn't.

Flames from the white cargo van exploded from under the large semi. The driver, afraid of an explosion, climbed out of the passenger door of the semi and fell to the highway tarmac, landing on broken glass and shards of metal. Traffic stopped and he ran across the highway.

She fell to a chair, exhausted. What was wrong? Her stomach turned and her knees weakened. What was wrong?

Behind him, his large semi sat atop a white cargo van. Flames billowed out the shattered windows and smoke poured into the sunset. He knelt on the ground as he watched the trapped man attempt to free himself from the burning van.

He cried for help.

And so did the semi driver.

And as she sat on her wooden kitchen chair she looked over her shoulder into the other room. The television was on and Chopper 9 was panning the wreckage on the highway. It zoomed in on the smoldering white cargo van.

She began crying and instantly thought about picking up the pieces in front of her.

But, she couldn't.

How would she tell the kids?