“Shit, that scared the crap out of me, you OK? Welcome to Los Angeles, home of the worst drivers in America.” His voice tailed off as he got a good look at Laura and realized she wasn’t OK. At all.

Her eyes were completely dark, her pupils dilated almost to iris width, and he could see she had twice as many freckles as he’d previously noticed, her skin was so pale.

“Laura,” he said, “are you hurt?”

She shook her head, then shook it again. “No. Am I?”

Bob looked her over quickly. No blood.

“No, you’re not hurt,” he said, his voice firm. “We’re both fine, the guy knocked off my side mirror is all.”

She nodded and stared at him. Her breathing was shallow, and he remembered her accident and wondered if she was still maybe a little freaked out. He looked through the windshield; the other driver was now out of his car, pointedly looking at his watch.

“Listen, I have to go and exchange insurance info with this asshole, but I’ll be right back.” He racked his brain for ideas, and thought about his nieces and nephews and what worked to calm them down. He scrabbled on the floor and handed her a flower catalog, and then pulled a pen from his jacket pocket.

“Could you do me a favor and go through and mark all the yellow ones?” he said, giving her the pen. “Circle the names, put an X by them, whatever.” He smiled at her, noticing her eyes looked a little less out of focus. Not much, though, and she was still as pale as ever. He squeezed her hand quickly. “Laura, I promise, everything is fine.”

She nodded.

“Only the yellow ones,” he said mock seriously. “No other colors.”

She nodded and opened the catalog.

“Yellow,” she said. “Got it.”

Bob got out of the car, and Laura started looking, her hand shaking as she held the pen.

Fortunately, there are a lot of yellow flowers.

•   •   •

By the time Bob returned to the car, Laura had pulled herself together and was deeply embarrassed. He handed her his registration and insurance.

“Could you put those back in the glove box?” He smiled at her, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry about that. I suspect it was his fault for not paying attention, but maybe I should have checked my blind spot better.”

“These things happen,” she replied. “I’m sorry I freaked out, what a wuss.”

He was surprised. “Not at all, it was completely shocking.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “You didn’t freak out.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh . . . it’s, like, the third dumb, small fender bender I’ve had in the last year. Maybe the drivers in Los Angeles aren’t the worst in the country, but they have to be up there.” He looked carefully over his shoulder before slowly pulling out again.