contact

Ahead of me on the highway the sedan began losing its tire. The rubber wore away from use and the metal rim scraped against the asphalt. Orange and yellow sparks erupted from the contact. I pressed on the gas and moved around the car, wondering if they’d make the destination before they lost it.

No. 160

Call

“Bryan’s turned his camera off and he’s on mute. That means he’s taking a phone call. This might be an emergency—his mother’s in the hospital; he’s been waiting for a call. I should walk down there and see how he’s doing. Let’s wait—oh, he’s back. We can continue.”

No. 158