The last thought

She walked smack bang into her last thought. No warning, no 'hi how you doing?', just wallop, last thought. It got stuck in her hair, just above the ear where she had hit it as she turned her head as she tried to avoid it. And when she brushed it out, it got stuck on her fingers, then when she wiped it off onto her pants it lurked there glowering at her, then she washed her pants but it held its breath (last thoughts can be incredibly tenacious like that) till the washing mashine emptied onto the garden where it promptly snuck up on to the leaf of her silverbeet where, the next morning, she had her last thought, looking suspiciously like a silverbeet leaf, on toast where it promtly got stuck in her throat and strangled her to death.