A black sedan travels down the road. 55 on a 45. The driver a man of business, efficient in every way. Wake up, fifteen minutes to shower, seven minutes to dress, one minute to check the schedule, twenty minutes to prepare and eat breakfast. Efficient. Efficient driving. Fast enough to get to his meeting a few minutes early, enjoy his cup of coffee. Aggressive enough to never miss an opportunity to pass someone. A businessman through and through.
A red car. A mother driving. Two in the back seat; a teenage girl and a six year old boy. The girl in a soccer uniform. A national honor society member, 5.0, prospects. Thinking, Am I going to be late? Glance at the clock absentmindedly; 6:28. Maybe. If traffic is good I won’t have to run again. I need my college recommendations, I can’t be late too many more times, or Coach might not do one for me. The mother impatient. I have to get back home. The lo mien is still on the stove, it will be overcooked if it’s not turned off soon. God knows I’ll have enough trouble getting Justin to eat anything with vegetables anyway. Maybe if I call Will, I can get him to turn it on low until I get back. I should probably…
Six-year old Justin in the back of the small red car, gazing distractedly at the window. The raindrops smattered across it glowed in the darkness, winking from the lights of passing cars, each a glimmering star unto itself. Justin’s face pressed against the glass, admiring a particularly plump star.
Good, a break in traffic. Not a huge one, but she can make it if she goes quickly; the black sedan is far enough away. Coffee brought to the lips, sipping. A red car looked like it would emerge from the stop sign at the intersection. It wouldn’t have time to get out. Coffee mug placed into the cup holder, relaxed, red car forgotten. Maybe Jess will be even later than me and coach will be madder at her than me. A quick smile—she deserves it. Two new stars appeared, lighting up the star-drops further. Eyes roving curiously on the little halos of light. A phone picked up, a number punched, a tone sounded. I hope Will answers, I don’t want it burnt. That man never answers the home phone. The red car rolling into the intersection. The black car driving. Efficiency. I didn’t put enough creamer in this coffee. I really should start using milk again, it’s much better. I would have to take a lactaid though. Eyes fixated on the new stars, seeming to get brighter, making every other star-drop more and more yellow. Eyes inquisitive, unworried. Inattention. The red car rolling out hurriedly. Oh, I better hurry up. Two stars growing bigger, more distinct. A face on the window. Mild annoyance. Why is it going? It doesn’t have time. Realization. Panic. A foot efficiently moving to the brake, pressing down. Inertia fighting brakes, winning. Two stars growing bigger. A face pressed against the glass. Oh! A foot slamming the accelerator. Brakes screech. Tires slide, hydroplane. Too fast. Not enough time. Sliding. NO! A face pressed against the glass. Two stars, impossibly big, close enough to touch. Two stars…