Cul-de-Sac by Edward Ahern

I was driving Newfoundland route 480 that winter night. Crested a hill, slightly airborne, when I saw the moose twenty meters ahead. Both lanes blocked. Rock ledge to the left, guard rail to the right, hit the brakes. Tires screamed, car swerved on black ice, and I hit the moose at his knees. I heard…