MicroHorror

Laura was driving down the freeway and applying her makeup when her cell phone beeped with a text message.

“Don’t bother,” the message read. She didn’t recognize the sender.
 
“Who is this?” she texted back with one hand, holding her lipstick with the other and steering with her knees.
 
“The makeup,” came the reply. “Don’t bother.”
 
Laura frowned.
 
“Why not?” she texted, her thumb racing across the keypad.
 
“Look up.”
 
Laura looked up just as her car slammed into the back of a semi parked on the shoulder, shearing off the car’s roof and lopping off her head.