Wrong

This morning hasn't felt right. Woke from a deep sleep feeling unrested. Body was sore though I've done no exercise nor had any falls. House was cold. Winter, though it hadn't left, had returned. All was darkest grey. Then I was in the car. My seventeenth year driving to the wrong job. The windshield ice wouldn't clear. The car would not warm. Lights kept turning red. At a stop near the university, a young woman crossed in front of my car. She wore chunky, four-inch heels. Her walk was all wrong. I watched pellet-snow wind-driven against her bare shoulders. I wondered where she had lost her coat. I imagined where she might have been. I shivered with her cold. The light turned green. She walked one way. I drove the other, thinking I should have given her a blanket I didn't have. At the onramp, I heard sirens. An ambulance in the southbound lane. A fire engine crossing under the highway to some other disaster. My car sounded wrong. The steering pulling left. I pulled back and pushed the accelerator, feeling all the wrongs, knowing nothing else I could do.