“Next time,” Tommy said aloud. “I'll ask Martha out.” The image of Martha's face during their afternoon encounter drew a smile on his face. He hummed along with the song on the radio.
Out of the blue, a truck appeared in front of him. His car's headlamps illuminated the beast, dirty and intimidating.
Time slowed down for Tommy when the headlamps broke.
Time moved slower when the hood got squashed.
Time moved very slow, almost to a halt, when the windshield broke into small pieces. Then time expired for Tommy. I crossed his name off my list.