Tom Wilson was driving back home from a business trip and had been on the road for nearly 15 hours and wanted to make it home without stopping over at a hotel. He looked at his watch. Only three more hours to go and he would be home sleeping in his bed after nearly two months on the road as a traveling salesman. He hated his car, he hated hotels and he hated restaurant food. He just wanted to be home.
He snapped on the radio to keep himself focused on the final stretch drive home but he hit the wall and several times he nodded off and had slowly merged into the other lane, one time getting a blast of a horn from the oncoming traffic. Tom looked at his watch with heavy eyelids. Only one hour to go and he knew that it was going to be the toughest hour of all as he now was actively fighting to keep his eyes open.
Slowly he drifted off to sleep at the wheel and like he had extra sensory perception he woke up just as a bag lady was crossing the highway pushing a shopping cart. His headlights flashed on her for a second, then everything seemed to happen in slow motion as he saw her face like a snapshot. Then time seemed to stand still and he saw all of her features so clearly that they would be forever tattooed in his brain. He tried to swerve to avoid hitting her but it was too late and he made contact with her and her shopping cart at over 100 kilometers an hour. He heard a muffled scream from the bag lady as she rolled up the hood to the windshield and then stopped cold where Tom came face to face with her dead eyes. He wrenched the steering wheel and she slid down the hood to the ground and there was a loud crunch as he drove over her head. Moments later a banging noise began as he dragged the shopping cart for a good two hundred feet underneath the car.
Panicked, he looked in his rear view mirror and there was nobody driving behind him. The night and the highway was dark and silent. There were no witnesses so he kept driving, leaving the women dead at the scene of the crime.
After arriving home he looked at the damage of his car, it was minimal, a little crack in the windshield and a slight bend in the bumper. Nobody would notice, he thought. He thought about telling his wife but then decided against it.
A day later he read in the paper and had heard on the radio that a women was killed in a hit and run on the highway and the police had no suspects or clues. Tom was relieved and he thought that in a couple more months the police would forget about the incident completely.
That day Tom hopped into his car and started to drive to work and as he looked through the windshield he saw the ghost of the bag lady he had killed, her face pressed up against the glass. The next day he looked in his rear view mirror and saw the phantom of the bag lady laying on the road with a crushed head. Later that day he stopped at a light and he saw the bag lady's ghost crossing the road, she then stopped and walked towards his car with a bruised and bloody face. She then vanished. Every night for weeks he dreamed of her face staring at him with vacant dead eyes.
Then one night Tom was driving with his wife and they were heading down the same road where he had hit the bag lady. He tensed up as he saw her ghost crossing the road and his wife screamed, "Look out! There's a bag lady crossing the road!"
Tom tried to swerve to avoid hitting her but it was too late.