Young Writers Society

John and Amy are roommates and best friends. They met each other during college when Amy was a football player and John was her team's mascot, a monkey. When they both found themselves looking for an apartment after graduation they decided to move in together because no one else was as much a fan of their goofy behavior as each other.

It was a calm, normal day in the vague somewhere-in-the-Unite-States-midwest. The sun was shining. The air was clear. The weather was mild, and Amy was currently totally winning an argument.

"And that's why a hotdog is definitely a taco, not a sandwich. It's about the orientation of the breaded part outside of it and whether the breaded case is all connected or two pieces. It's common sense, John."

-"Look, I'm agreeing with you, just in a slightly different way... I really think people are gonna give you stares when you suggest a hotdog is a taco, but what if we just spin it around the other way bro -- hear me out," he begins to motion with his hands, signifying the importance here "tacos, are just crunchy hotdogs". he held his breath waiting for what he could only sense was dissatisfaction with the explanation.

"But - see, now we're getting into what makes a taco a taco," Amy argued, gesturing pointedly with her hands in the air.

"I feel like hotdogs clearly require the hotdog. But a taco feels like it falls more under the salad category of food. Like a salad can be made of lots of things. We have leafy salads. Potato salads. Fruit salads. It's more about the structure than it is about the materials. Tacos can have all sorts of things in them and still be a taco, but a hotdog needs a hotdog. So if anything, a hotdog is just a soft taco."

John accepts it quietly with a loud exhale, "Fine Amy, but really all I did was ask if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, I love breaking down the every day thing and analyze it all, but when food is on the line, Amy, the only thing I want to break down is the food..." he holds his stomach, in an almost oddly maternal way and mentions that his stomach is growling, "Hey did you want to go check out that Indian restaurant you told me about last time? We keep forgetting right when we mean to go, but I remember you telling me it was only a few blocks away... whaddya think? that sound good to you?"

Amy hummed, realizing they had strayed very far from the original question of: "Where should we eat?"

How did they end up talking about hotdogs anyway? Oh well.

"Sure," she said, closing her eyes with a shrug. "I think it's just that way."

Bonk!

Amy bounced back, realizing she'd accidentally bumped into one of the construction workers that had been walking around the partially intact sidewalk they were walking on.

But right when she shook her head clear, a shadow appeared over her head.

Looking up, she saw an anvil dropping right above her, and she knew she didn't have time to move.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

Everyone Jumped up and out of the way in response to the sound of the impact, John was a little bit ahead of Amy just before the swift accident occurred, had he been behind her things would have been... different, but he looked back in shock while his words floated out mindlessly, as if they tried fleeing the scene.
"OH MY G-", right before he could finish one of the workers blurted out for someone to call 9-1-1, as if it was second nature.

not a moment lingered until what was just a few people turned into a crowd, loud scurrying and people talking over each-other for what felt like an eternity before the ambulance arrived.
John did everything he could to help but there wasn't much he could do for a girl who had 'ACME' written all over her face, and not much else.