The day I almost died

It happened a fortnight ago. Another apparently normal day. 10 a.m. Coffee break. I rethought my schedule.
Fetch the phone from the repair shop.
Buy coffee.
No puffs.
No butter bun (To compensate for one tenth of the phone expense).

I am riding my scooty. There's always a little traffic as the bus always stops a little ahead of the bus stop. And people would run to catch the bus. That day, the bus is patiently standing in the bus stop with me right behind. Few honks here. Few honks there. Wait people, I'm riding a scooty here, not a bat mobile. I can't just take off on top of the bus. A car comes behind me. The car guy tries to overtake and cross the wrong lane. Another bus comes in the opposite direction. Chaos. The car guy tries to do something. I feel a sudden wave of vibration passing through my spine, across my shoulders, down to my arms, hands and fingers. The next moment I'm standing, with two buses on either side of me and the car behind. Remember peninsula from old Geography books? I hear a strange monotonous noise. What just happened? Where is my scooty?  Oh, it's safe, under the bus. I must be dead. I am quite sure about that. But I can't see the cave of white light beckoning me. Maybe science is right all along.

I hear voices. Human voices.
"Are you okay?"
"Hurt anywhere?"
"Bleeding?"
"Dead?"
 They shoot me with several more questions I don't remember. I can't remember words. I just nod. I check my hands. Legs. Ears. Nose. No scratches. No bleeding. Nothing.

 The car guy comes towards me. He is panic stricken. A middle aged man with orange hair. I would've totally laughed at him. I mean, who in the world colors his hair orange?  Okay, Trump does it. But then he is meme material. The temporary crowd around me questions him now.

"What if this girl had died?"
"What if her head was smashed?"
"What if she had internal bleeding?"

I am like... Folks, you are only petrifying me more. I would've died. But I did not. Time isn't bored of me yet. I should feel triumphant for winning the little fight with death. I don't feel that way though. It's too overwhelming and too empty. It's too strangulating and too relieving. It's too much of two exactly opposite feelings at the same time. I can't fathom words.

"My relative died. I was in a hurry. I only have a learner's license..." The car guy keeps reasoning out. But mostly he asks, "Shall I go now?" "Shall I go now?"

I stand there still unable to suck in the gravity of what just happened. The car guy says something again. I don't understand a bit. The other people say something. I don't understand that either. I'm not listening. Not thinking. Only breathing and very much aware of it. Another minute or so passes by. Or maybe it's just 2 seconds. I don't know. I seem to have lost track of time.

"That's okay, " I say, finally finding the words. "That's okay".

I lift my scooty. Turn on the key. It starts instantly. It's alright again. It's ready to go.

So am I. Atleast that's what I like to think. Life goes on.