Friction

January 26, 2005

It was a dark and stormy night. I sat in the car, feeling the engine vibrating against the loose engine mounts under the hood. The wipers swished away great rivulets of water. About five vertical feet of the oak tree's trunk was illuminated by the headlights, the rest of it hid in the oppressive black. Inside the house there was broiled chicken. Inside the car there was only fear.