On Wednesday, I was driving Claire to my house from her rugby game, when I hit a turtle. It was just over the hill, and I couldn't see it until it was five feet in front of me. When I heard the bum-bum of an object rolling under the tires, I let out a yelp, and cried out, "JESUSCHRISTIHITAGODDAMNTURTLE." I kept repeating this to myself, muttering like a crazy person - I couldn't get the little turtle out of my mind. Claire tried to comfort me by telling me that there was no way that I could have seen that turtle coming, and that he would have been hit by a car anyway, and it's just not my fault. I didn't hear her though, I just heard the little turtle, talking about how he was crossing the road to get to the turtle pond, where all his turtle friends were hanging out, and they would play turtle games, and after, he'd retire to his little turtle home. But I killed it, I killed the little turtle.