It was a beautiful day, the sun warming her body as she stood on the pit wall. The cars flew by, exhaust and sound trailing as she waited for Jean. Again she tapped the intercom, straining for his voice though he was less than a mile away.
"What's up? Dont see you..."
She looked up, saw oily smoke over the trees.
"Seventeen car. Where are you?"
Although it was twenty years ago she remembered it like yesterday, her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She walked, then ran towards the crash truck, the door open, waiting, arms waving frantically.
She'd seen smashed racecars. But it had never been theirs. the parts twisted together looking like so much macaroni. She'd seen twisted bodies too. But not his. She had tensed, then felt the baby jump.
She snapped her head - that was twenty years ago. She made a life for her and her son. She was an accomplished flautist; she worked whenever she wished all over Europe. She still followed racing, dragging her son behind. Still in demand to perform the job she had for Jean, the calm voice over the radio.
"Marcel, where are you. Dont see you..."
Of course, he insisted on folowing his father. Now she waited, just like before.
She heard her name over the PA system, report to the trailer. The sun dimmed, the sky turned to black clouds. She ran.
My thanks as usual to my fellow writers - well, they're writers.
I wanted to do something different from my usual stuff. I may have found a limit to the 250 word idea, though. 20 years in 250 words is probably stretching it too far...