She was a bruise and the rest of the world was a poking finger.

The frog looked at her.

Instead of work, this morning Thea found herself at the Car Recovery Centre, picking her way through the graveyard of other people’s vehicles with an overly cheerful assistant. She clutched a cardboard box to her chest. It was filled with the belongings that had been rescued from her car. The bright green frog sprawled on top, a present from her mother when she had bought her first car. He had a red kerchief around his neck and a button in his middle that, when pressed, played a selection of children’s songs. His green was clean, his kerchief still tied neatly, his button still working. It was as if the crash had never happened. She, on the other hand, felt as if her own stuffing was showing.

‘We clear out the cars ourselves, but just wanna check that there’s nothing we missed.’ The man edged his stomach past the hulk of an estate car.

‘Umm … I’m okay. You seem to have it all here. I don’t need to see the—’

‘There you go.’ He pointed.

The thing in front of her still had some of the essential features of a car, but they were in all the wrong places: wheels squashed too close together, windscreen crumpled, half the bonnet missing. Suddenly, the car park around her shifted and fell away and she was back in the driver’s seat, the airbags a cushion around her, smoke in her hair.

She took a deep breath.

Someone else could have ended up as twisted and shattered as the lump of metal and glass in front of her.

And then, within twenty minutes, she really was back in the driver’s seat. A different car provided by her insurance, the inside smelling of polish and air freshener.

All she had to do was turn the ignition key.

A woman with a clipboard stood expectantly by the car, waiting for her to drive away, smile frozen.

It was now 10 a.m. and the world had come into pulsing, throbbing focus. Thea popped a paracetamol for her eternal headache, stared at the dashboard and blinked a few times, hoping that would make her eyelids lighter.

The woman waited expectantly.

All she had to do was turn the key.

Her hand hovered near the ignition, but, in her head, she could hear the grinding squeal of metal against metal and the noise was so loud it made her fingers shake.

People as twisted and shattered as that lump of metal and glass.

She fumbled for the door handle and lurched out of the car, grabbing her box of belongings.

‘Umm … Miss Mackenzie?’ She heard the woman call out after her, but the voice was an echo and Thea walked fast, away, out of the car park, not looking back.