Ficlets

In the car

This is where I need to go: 532 Burnham Court. The last time I was there we moved a couch up a flight of stairs.

The day’s news had somewhat overshadowed your backstory about this accident. Falling into a window really isn’t an everyday sort-of thing, but I had supposed that it didn’t matter as long as you got some treatment. In any case I wasn’t thinking about those other possible situations yet. I was focused on driving.

That is to say I was trying to avoid the attention of the police. Red and blue strobes out shone the early morning’s glow. Huge and windowless police vans drove toward the county prison in a convoy fashion. But I put it out of my mind – I needed to get to your house without delay. I let the incline of the off-ramp slow my sedan down.

This is when I hit the brakes. Hard.

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