Philip

At 250 KPH, my BMW pierces the grey cold afternoon of the autobahn’s fast lane. The near guardrail blurs blue. From a row of creeping silver tankers, a white van lazily pokes its shoulder into my space. Oh shit, what’s he doing? I brake hard, nose dives deep. Is it enough? I jink left, but Smack! The seatbelt jerks tight, the windshield crazes opaque, and my head flops into the beige airbag. Red, then all is black.