”What happened to you?” I asked Jim as he came out of the hotel, face covered in what looked like cement dust.
”Just a little accident,” He said, ”Nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? Yeah right.
”Come on get in the car, we need to get out of here,” Jim told me.
I didn’t know what was going on with him half the time, but for the most time, he seems to keep it together. Not tonight though. Not tonight.
He’s driving the car. A cigarette in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other. Using his knees to steer.
I was terrified that this isn’t going to end well.
”You should really slow down a little. Or maybe put your hands on the wheel?” I told him.
”Why, I’m driving within the limit” He wasn’t. ”Besides even if I wasn’t, I’m in full control.”
”What’s going on with you?”
”Me? Nothing much, same as always” He was babbling, I was having trouble picking up what he was saying.
I didn’t believe that he was okay. He obviously wasn’t okay. He was driving down the highway, drinking while he did so. With a face full of cement
And he’s sitting there telling me that he’s okay.
I’m not buying it.
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Categories: flash fiction