I feel my hands produce moisture around the black steering wheel.
The sound of car tires rolling to a stop on pavement.
I take one last drag from my cigarette.
Smoke lingering in a distorted halo around my head.
I adjust the dial on the broken radio that whispers sweet hymns to me when I’m alone. I am not alone tonight.
His yellow, feline eyes piercing me through my windshield.
I silently open the car door and my legs shake as I stand and stare at him.
The soft, blue-white mist that hovers after the rain goes fading as the sun dies.
Not losing eye contact with him I slowly, silently march around to back of the car.
The suddenly icy feel of the car’s metal against my bare, chapped hands.
I pop the trunk and pick The Box up.
Do it. He says.
I whimper as I open The Box.