“Let’s speak in a language any cat or dog could understand,” said the man. She sat in the passenger seat, facing forward, unmoving. Through the dust-mottled windshield she saw a newly constructed park with squared-off areas of light green grass. She did not look to her left at the man behind the wheel. To look would somehow be to accept the ridiculous and yet rattling thing he’d just said. She was twenty then, a young woman, though she still thought of herself as, and called herself, a girl. Her heart was hammering her chest.
This happened a long time ago.
The image of her frozen in the fish tank of his littered car would remain intact for forty years.
It was her final week of college, the man was her professor.
But how had they gotten in the car?
Read the story: Literary Hub
No comments:
Post a Comment