First date. Acceleration. Horns honking. Squealing tires. A sudden veer
through traffic, and I'm sliding across the seat. My head
smashes against the passenger side window. I see something less
than stars. An elbow jabs roughly into my throat. He is leaning past me,
over me, screaming, giving some guy in a silver Camaro the middle -
finger. Curses and spittle fly. Then, it's done. It's as if I imagined it all.
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads