Crashing doesn’t happen all at once.

Seems like it.

It’s not the fall, but the sudden stop at the end.

But then you look back.

See that it was happening long before this.

Maybe in ways I didn’t see.

Or didn’t want to see.

Wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

The result was the same.

Maybe figuring out how this one happened, I can prevent the next one.

Or.

Amidst the wreckage, find a way through.

Because crashing is a series of events, fortunate, and otherwise.