Green Light.

I left his house, approached the intersection. The left turn signal was green. I start to turn.
I look, without turning my head, at the green light and a car coming full speed toward me.
Cars make contact.
Air bag goes off (thank God), face and neck are scraped, tooth is chipped. The inside of my cheek, bitten and swelling quickly.
I open my eyes and scream.
I get out of my car and scream.
I go back in my car to get my purse. I put my purse on the hood of my car (the two thirds that's left of it) to find my phone. I can't find it.
A hispanic woman is sitting in her car, making a face that I can't describe. Her passenger, a black man, gets out of the car and runs off. He comes back a minute later (what were you doing?).
A fireman comes and tells me to sit down in my backseat. He asks me my name (Morgan Miller), asks how old I am (nineteen), am I okay (I'm fine, my skin hurts. I can't find my phone.), what happened (I tell him), am I okay (I can't find my phone), he heard screaming (that was me), he heard me screaming when he was inside of the fire station (my voice carries when I really give it), am I okay (I can't find my phone), do I want to go to the hospital (no, I just want to go home). Some other fireman comes up. Am I okay (I'm fine, I can't find my phone), what happened (I tell him), how old am I (nineteen), hang tight, I'm going to be fine.
The woman goes to the hospital, her insurance is stuck inside a glove box that won't open (convenient). Another fireman. Am I okay (I just want to call my mom and I can't find my phone), he'll call her, she's on her way. The same questions over again. Another fireman comes up. He looks like a less attractive version of Nate Novarro from Cobra Starship. My head is starting to hurt from crying so much. Snot is coming out of my nose like the oil from that stupid BP leak.
A police man comes up to me, asks for my ID and proof of insurance. How old am I (nineteen). I hand him my ID and proof of insurance.
The first fireman returns and tries to calm me down more (I've been sobbing off and on). He tells me of his first accident (it was his fault). I glare at the ugly van that hit me.
The fireman finds my phone. I thank him.
I had a green light, I told everyone. I had a green light and they came out of no where, probably going a thousand miles per hour.
The light was green. It was green.
I'm not crazy.
The light was green.