Junkyard 1 Week 4

The car in front hits a deer and speeds off, over the hill, towards the highway.
The car behind bumps over it again, the car behind again, the car behind again.
By the time my Accord thumps over, it's roadkill. Pink and fur splattering the two lanes.
I can't see the hooves, the ears, the nose or face.
In my rear view, I see someone slow, pull over to the side, look back and forth across traffic,
then bend over, pick up a tuft of a pink cotton sweatshirt, a jean pocket, a shoelace.
Back at home, my mother flips on the tv, calls me about I-285 being backed up to 400,
someone was walking along the highway.