"Mom, come get me,” he slurs. “I had a wreck."
"Slow down," I tell myself, but my foot is heavy on the pedal.
His second DWI. I wonder how much bail will be and imagine driving to Huntsville. He doesn’t look good in orange.
I see him--blood on his shirt. Sitting next to him on the railing as they tow his car, I take his hand and we wait--for him to be arrested.
Suddenly, the police wave us on.
We can go? No breathalyzer? Not even a ticket?
His car is totaled, but I've NEVER felt more euphoric.
4 comments:
Damn.
If this were a contest, you win!
VERY nice! Color me awed.
John
Thanks, John. And thanks for the tag.
I've been tied up with the grandbaby, but I'll get to the drabble as soon as I can.
Great story!
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