On my way home, in truth moving nothing more than the speed limit, I suddenly drive up quickly behind you. A blindingly clean and brilliant scarlet corvette complete with vanity plates. And I’m confused as to why such a cocksure sports car is travelling at such a slow rate. So slow in fact, as to frustrate other drivers, making them impatiently swerve and dart around you.
I pass as you pull over and stop on left shoulder of the road intending to glare (always the extent of my road rage) as soon as I come parallel to your window.
And when I do, I notice a head of shocking white hair. I’m taken aback that you’re an elderly man with aviator shades and a giddy smile on your face.
And beside you?
A woman with hair as white as your own.
Both of you smiling and talking,
faces animated with…
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