It was supposed to be fun, instead it turned into an
accident. A game of chicken: two cars racing towards each other at full speed.
Only the chicken would turn away first, and I wasn’t going to be it. Bobby wasn’t
either. His guts were smeared all over my front fender. That was a week ago. I
stood in the dealership parking lot to pick it up. It looked shiny new, as if
the whole thing had never happened. I drove off, red light ahead. I try to
break but the car won’t stop. I look in the mirror to see if any cars are
behind me. Instead I see Bobby. He smiles, his half eaten away face exposing
his jaw underneath as he pulls my head back and strangles to an explosive
death. We shall meet again soon.
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