Short Story #3 – A woman drives home alone at night.

Laura looks in her rear view mirror. The incompetent fool behind her was so close that she could not even see his headlights. If something went wrong right now, if she had to break for a pothole- very bloody likely in this country- he would have no time to stop at all. She applies the breaks in two short bursts, hoping he would get the message and back off.

He doesn’t.

He chooses instead to fall back and flash his lights at her.  Blinding her. Laura clings to the steering wheel with white knuckle frustration. She so want to flip him the bird, but she is better than that.  She lifts her foot off the accelerator pedal and the car starts to loose speed. The other lane has no oncoming traffic. He’ll have no trouble passing her.

He doesn’t.

She watches as the speed drop from one hundred to eighty. He doesn’t fall back or try to pass her. She applies the brakes and slows the car down to seventy, sixty, and fifty. He flashes his lights into her eyes again. Panic sets in.  She opens the window, pushing her hand out and waving at him to pass her.

He doesn’t.

He blows his horn, flashing his lights at her again. Her car has slowed down to thirty, but he refuses to fall back or to pass her. Her anxiety turns to panic. It is late at night and the road carries no other traffic. She leans over to drag her handbag from beneath the seat, fumbling to find her phone.  When she has the phone in her hand, ready to make a call he pass her.

Of course he doesn’t. So she turns her hand, and give him a bird.

He immediately drives out from behind her car into the next lane, but instead of passing, he hangs in the lane next to her. She looks over to him, fear gripping her heart. He is enormous. Stabbing at the button to close the window, she accelerates. He follows suite.

She turns to look at him, waving for him to go ahead. But he is making a gesture with his hands. Something turning? A wheel? And then he gestures a stop.

She takes a deep breath.

Something about a wheel?

It is only then that she feels it… a slight bump every so often. As if she was driving through a row of potholes… or have a flat tyre. She sighs. Looking back at the guy still driving next to her she mouths the words “thank you.”

He passes.


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