Sorry, had to leave my computer, but now it's done.
Waddle Creek road is an old trail road carved out from Black Hills when you could only get to your farm on a horse. It's been updated since then, of course. It's a whole two lanes of black asphalt, kept clean, white and yellow lines crisp as to appease rich locals. It's nice. Thick green trees, the expected blackberry bushes and ferns. The mountain climbs up on your left, drops off on your right. Well, it does when you're leaving my friend Adam's house, as I was half after eleven Tuesday night.
The swollen clouds that had been perched above us all day were just beginning to weep their burden as I took the first couple curves. My feet were sore from dancing so I took off my shoes, making sure to give the road all essential concentration, and tossed them on the passenger seat then reached to turn on the radio. Now is when I hit a puddle and begin to spin out of control.
Efrim, my silver Saturn, spun around 180 degrees but kept momentum in what use to be the forward direction. I watch the trees pass me in the wrong direction. I probably do everything wrong. I know that I am quiet. Another full rotation around and the road bends without taking me with it. It goes to the left, Efrim stays straight, catches dirt and starts down the hill.
The story's action- excluding Adam coming to save me, calling AAA, then standing out in the rain while they chained and pulled it up- ends here quickly. Efrim rested in those standard blackberry bushes, at about a 40 degree angle drop, just nestled against those trees thick with moss, nose pointed at the road from which you couldn't see him.
He's perfectly fine, needs a tune up, but no scratches, no dents. I'm fine. I had a panic attack in jazz band today. Felt like someone was sitting on my chest. When I went to leave after rehearsal I sat in my car until it stopped raining. Almost half an hour spent frozen, hands at ten and two, buckled in, starring at the rain.
Adam is amazing. When we got back to his house he fed me non dairy ice cream and we made spaghetti. He looked like a movie hero. I sleep with him in his bed and we cuddled. Then last night we went to Jake's and I got very very durnk. Yeah, durnk. Only Wednesday I could possibly have follow that Tuesday.
But now it's up. I finished it. I have no circulation again.
The swollen clouds that had been perched above us all day were just beginning to weep their burden as I took the first couple curves. My feet were sore from dancing so I took off my shoes, making sure to give the road all essential concentration, and tossed them on the passenger seat then reached to turn on the radio. Now is when I hit a puddle and begin to spin out of control.
Efrim, my silver Saturn, spun around 180 degrees but kept momentum in what use to be the forward direction. I watch the trees pass me in the wrong direction. I probably do everything wrong. I know that I am quiet. Another full rotation around and the road bends without taking me with it. It goes to the left, Efrim stays straight, catches dirt and starts down the hill.
The story's action- excluding Adam coming to save me, calling AAA, then standing out in the rain while they chained and pulled it up- ends here quickly. Efrim rested in those standard blackberry bushes, at about a 40 degree angle drop, just nestled against those trees thick with moss, nose pointed at the road from which you couldn't see him.
He's perfectly fine, needs a tune up, but no scratches, no dents. I'm fine. I had a panic attack in jazz band today. Felt like someone was sitting on my chest. When I went to leave after rehearsal I sat in my car until it stopped raining. Almost half an hour spent frozen, hands at ten and two, buckled in, starring at the rain.
Adam is amazing. When we got back to his house he fed me non dairy ice cream and we made spaghetti. He looked like a movie hero. I sleep with him in his bed and we cuddled. Then last night we went to Jake's and I got very very durnk. Yeah, durnk. Only Wednesday I could possibly have follow that Tuesday.
But now it's up. I finished it. I have no circulation again.