The funny thump as the car hit the book

I don't remember the time of year, but it can't have been deep winter, nor could it have been summer. I doubt it was spring; my guess is late fall, and probably November. I don't remember how old I was, but I can't have been younger than seven, nor older than nine. I don't remember much at all.

I don't even remember the title of the book. I just remember that it was cloth-bound, and I remember the rough texture of the material that had been used.

Dad and I were on our way to the Howe Library, and it was dark and raining hard. The street was black with the rain, and suddenly his hand grabbed my shoulder, hard, and yanked backwards. It hurt. There was a loud "thunk", and the book jerked in my hand. The red, faded material on the cover was torn by the impact.

The car drove on, and the driver didn't even slow down.

I still wonder if he even noticed how close he came to the little boy he almost killed.