His foot stayed steady on the criss-cross pattern of the accelerator pedal as his silver Chevrolet Lumina glided purposefully down stretches of pockmarked asphalt. He felt oddly comfortable in the glow of sparse streetlights, the angular surfaces of his face illuminated and darkened like a strobelit wall in some sultry dance hall. The night held him close, like a long lost love.
Where was he going? After 4AM, only illegal speakeasies and private gatherings were still going. Plus, it was Tuesday night, and most of the workaday world had retreated into slumber. Still he drove on in silence, considering.
For the third time he drove past the left turn which would have taken him home, where the spectres of arguments and his wife's indifferent back turned towards him loomed as the most likely scenarios. He'd find his way there before the sun peeked over the edges of palm trees and the normals emerged from their tedium and complicity.
For now, he had the night to hold him like she wouldn't, and the road to keep them company.
Check out the website www.hundredandfour.com to learn something so secret, it has been driving me crazy for a month. Thanks Hannibal. Just gotta wait til Monday now.
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