writing

Let’s go, sugarbeet;

“Let’s go, sugarbeet,” he said and snapped on the light. He was holding two duffel bags, one very light, the other very heavy. It was her car, and she had slept with the keys. She slowly sat up, dragging her sleeve across her chin-

Hit the road, Jack!” he sing-songed.

She glared at him across the console. He had already taken it upon himself to completely re-adjust the passenger seat to his liking, and pulled his dark Red Sox cap low over his eyes. Before she knew it, he was fast asleep.

She was now in complete control. She let the thought sink in as the streetlamps of the freeway flickered past. She glanced down at the speedometer, and realized that her foot had grown heavy. The thin red pointer on the dial continued slowly but steadily on its clockwise rotation…

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