They are standing in their drive way. The morning sunlight engulfs them like a theatre spotlight. Their carport casts a strangely square shadow draping their natural backdrop in darkness. They are both wearing black. She is wrapped in yoga pants and a loose-fitting hoody. His jeans are overlapped by his black jacket.
Her hair is disheveled. He is holding a six pack of beer.
They are caught in a farewell embrace, he looks to be leaving. She kisses him as if to ask what is happening. His hand grabs her buttocks and then reaches down and around for more…
Her car is slowing as she approaches the yield signed intersection. I can see by the look on her face that she doesn’t intend nor want to stop. She does a quick one, two look for cross traffic. She spies me, slows a little more. She hesitates, checks for traffic a second time.
I’m still not in the intersection. If she were to hurry there would be no conflict and she could go first without endangering me at all.
Her car is creeping toward the line, her front tires drop into the ditch. Her hands clench the steering wheel, she won’t look at me again. And her foot drops onto the gas. The engine roars, the wheels spin and she goes nowhere. Her face now reflects the horror of her unconsidered variable. This morning, there’s ice.
His back is toward me but I immediately notice his hunter orange beanie that is tucked under his trucker’s cap. The cap is balanced on top more than worn. His navy blue jacket reaches his knees and his left hand is holding a white, plastic grocery bag he plans to use to pick up the shit from the Shih Tzu that is attached to the leash he is holding in his other hand. He turns as he hears my freehub buzzing. I’m not sure which one of us is more surprised by the other, but it’s certain there is a shared moment of odd curiosity.