Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Sketch 4

By: K. Harvey

He couldn't tell what lane he was in. It had been an hour since the snow had stopped. It had come down in tiny crystals, the smallest possible snow, but it came down for hours. There were lights ahead and lights behind him, but he was alone on the highway. It was his highway. He could drive in the very center. His neck ached. His feet were cold where the snow melted in the heat in the car and into his socks. He wanted the thrill of a passing car, hoping they wouldn't slide, hoping they wouldn't slam into him, and watching them go. As if they would know what lane he was in. But it was his highway. It was taking him too long to get home. He drove slow and hard, like he felt he had to. He wouldn't remember the songs that played on the radio. He was driving too hard. But he knew what song he would listen to when he was home.


Tony Gonzalez said...

were you sitting in the back of my car on the way home from Grand Rapids (twice)?

JHitts said...

I hope you were driving on US 12, and listening to "Pet Sounds" at the same time.

K. Jan Harvey said...

Unfortunately, my little Honda has no working cd player, nor the maturity to have a cassette player, so I was listening to the radio at the time. But it was quiet, because I always think I'd be really embarrassed if I got in a major car accident with the music really loud.
I mean... who says that was me? This is fiction.

K. Harvey said...
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