It had been a warm day for April, and her father had remarked on the fact that it seemed to have inspired the bushes and trees to begin pushing out the buds that would soon become leaves. But tonight the sky was clear, the chill was back, and it was downright cold.

She parked the pickup on the shoulder and got out, pacing in the intersection in a futile attempt to feel as if she was doing something. The truck's hazard lights were blinking, and it gave the corner a surreal appearance. She'd turned off the engine to keep from disturbing the neighbors, but as she waited, she realized that they'd surely wake when they heard the ambulance siren.

Where was it? She'd tried to be as clear as possible in her directions to the 911 operator, and had rerun the entire conversation in her head several times to make sure she'd given them all the information they'd need. Desperate for anything to do that would keep her from thinking, she lit a cigarette and held it in trembling fingers.

She'd had this dream before, of course. Her mother coming out to wake her, to tell her that something was wrong with her father and she couldn't wake him up. That's how it had started tonight. But as soon as her mom woke her, she knew it was different this time. This was real.

CPR didn't help. She knew instinctively that it wouldn't, even before she started. Still, she had to try, and when it didn't work, she was the one that called the ambulance. Her mother and her brother just stood there, seemingly stunned. The operator asked questions, she'd given answers.

And now, here she was, standing in the crossroads, waiting for the ambulance to come, for someone official to tell her what she already knew.

— Props to the CHPercolator list for the prompt
February 6, 2001