It Could’ve Been Worse
“It could’ve been worse,” I said.
Her eyes machine-gunned daggers at me. “Worse? I can’t walk around with a chipped fingernail.”
A bolt of lightning shot out of the blue sky, exploding the front-yard maple.
“My car!” she screamed, as we picked ourselves off the road. “It’s only six months old.”
“At least you weren’t in it. It could’ve been worse.”
More lightning bolts shot down, hitting nearby houses, and the sky darkened with the shapes of hundreds of alien craft.
“It could be—”
She punched me. It could have been worse; at least she went for the face.