Thirty five minutes. The time it normally takes me to commute to work in my red and slightly too old car. The traffic annoys me. It always does. My lane slows down and ends up stuck next to a sign that says “road work ahead.” Always the same old bullshit with the decades old asphalt. And if they are always working, then how come the potholes never disappear?
I turn up the volume and listen to the news, not that I care but the traffic information comes directly after. Some guy that’s even less patient than me starts to honk his horn so I end up missing it anyway. Way to go you idiot!
Finally, I end up in front at the intersection and the light that kept me waiting for too long turns green. I shout “Thank God!” in delight as the empty road ahead welcomes me.
I floor it.
And then everything slows down. The adrenaline tells me something is wrong. I look back through the mirror, nothing. I look to my right, nothing.
I look to my left…
Someone else floored their gas too. It’s a monster of a truck, probably fully loaded. “Convoi exceptionnel.” I guess it couldn’t brake on time and went through an orange light that perhaps had already turned red. Damn, I bet I could have avoided this if only I didn’t have that fixation for what was in front of me. So now my fate is decided only by impatience and a stupid color that gave me the go ahead? No, fuck that!
I swirl my steer to the right.
My heart begins to pump faster and the rhythm echoes louder in my head than the sound of screeching brakes. The sweat on my back melts me further into my seat as a shadow begins to loom over me.
I shift gears one last time.
The sudden urge to flee makes me reflect back on my entire life in mere moments. When was the last time I panicked like this? When was the first time I panicked like this? Was it on my first school day?
My window cracks.
No, this isn’t the same as the time that I kicked in the window from the backyard and got scolded by my late dad. Although at this rate, I might be able to tell him about it later.
The door folds like a piece of paper.
Reminds me of the time I kicked your door in to tell you how I felt. Sorry love, I think you need to give me flowers instead this time.
My mind comes back to reality.
And reality, just like my car, hits hard.
I would not clock in today.