I was heading home. Feeling horrible, like always. Why was it that every day started off well, but somehow I managed to turn it into shit. Every. Single. Day.
Today I was driving to work, everything was fine, when I was pulled over for a random breathalyzer test.
I hadn’t been drinking, so it was fine, but still, the whole thing put me in a worse mood.
Then I was off to work again, and once there I was bombarded with useless questions all day. With each one, I felt more and more like blowing the place up.
It calmed down for a while after lunch, and I managed to collect myself enough so that I was happy for the drive home.
Halfway home, however, the same place as before, I was once more pulled over for a random breathalyzer test.
Two times in one day was enough. I wasn’t going to just let the cops do this to me quietly. I let the poor guy hear everything I thought about him and his job.
To his credit, he took it well and didn’t get mad. I passed the test once more and was on my way.
That brings us back to the beginning of the story.
I am on my way home, feeling horrible.
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Categories: flash fiction