Your Other Left

The road turned left.
Macy turned right.
They found her truck the next morning, smashed into a big oak tree.
Macy was sitting in the bed of the pickup, smoking a cigarette through shattered teeth.
The Sheriff asked her if she was alright.
Macy looked back through two black eyes and shrugged.
“I guess so,” she said. “I”ve felt better, though.”
The Sheriff got up in the truck bed and bummed a smoke off of Macy. “Shame about the truck,” he said.
“Shame about the tree, too,” she said.
He nodded, and they waited for the tow truck in silence.