The bouncing ball in the middle of the road was misdirection. I mean, it was so obviously an inanimate object - even before I recognized it - that it allayed my fear. Then I glanced over at the larger object and saw it was a beautiful little dog that, once it slid to a stop, would never be moving again.
That car in front of me - now stopped and well behind me - must be filled with adrenaline and remorse. I get to keep driving with guilty relief. And that bouncing ball is now a haunting symbol of sorrow, lonely and un-caught, bouncing still. The dog's master will forever be chasing the moment that never happened: the one where the ball didn't go onto the road.
Ease my shaken soul, Neil.
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