The rain gradually let up. To keep away the drowsiness from the alcohol, I upped the speed. 60 kilometers per hour, 70, 80. I would crash into deep puddles with a great sound, then speed up again. On rural roads, in this awful weather, at this time of night, surely there was no need to worry about other cars or pedestrians. It was a long straightaway. Tall streetlamps made long chains along both sides. I took a cigarette from my pocket, lit it with the cigarette lighter, and took three puffs before tossing it out the window. That was when my drowsiness hit its peak. I don’t think I was out for more than a second or two. But the moment I came back to my senses, it was too late. My car was veering into the opposite lane, and the headlights illuminated a figure mere meters ahead. In a brief moment, I thought many things. Among them were lots of meaningless memories from my childhood that I’d long forgotten. The watery-blue paper balloons my kindergarten teacher straight out of junior college made us, a crow I saw on the veranda when I had a cold and took the day off school, a gloomy stationery shop we stopped by on the way home from visiting my mother in the hospital, etcetera. It was probably something like my life flashing before my eyes. I was searching through twenty-two years of memories trying to find some useful knowledge or experience to help avoid this impending crisis. The brakes screeched shrilly. But it was unquestionably too little, too late. I gave up on it all and closed my eyes tight. The next moment, a powerful thump rocked the car. Except, there was no thump. A few seconds passed that felt like an eternity. I stopped the car and looked around fearfully, but saw no one fallen to the road, at least not within range of the headlights. What happened?