By Laura Besley
In the viscous moments before the crash, I realise what a fool I’ve been not to believe in God, or the comfort of an afterlife.
A reel of future memories spools before my eyes: ironing on Sundays, school runs in the rain, uncelebrated anniversaries.
But that was the life I chose and now I must lie in it, even if I struggle to breathe through each passing day.
As the two cars collide, I make a promise to myself: if I live, I will believe there is a better life to come, and that will sustain me through this one.
Laura Besley writes to stop life falling down around her and to ignore the housework.