TORYSAYS

Short Story: Traffic

makemymark:

I’m fucking late. I’m always fucking late. I stab the key into the ignition of my embarrassingly old car. In retaliation it refuses to start. The starter motor hisses at me disobediently. I try again. Hiss. I try a third time. The engine begrudgingly grumbles into action. I put my car into gear and accelerate recklessly up the road. Disapproving neighbours cut their eyes and shake their heads at me as I pass them. I chuck a quick left and then a right. I try and edge my way into the queue of predictably heavy traffic on the high street. A pair of schoolboys suddenly step out in front of me. I punch the horn. I regret doing so. The pitch of the horn on my car is unusually high. I always seem to forget this fact when overcome by a bit of road rage. The schoolboys laugh at me and give me the finger. A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. I’d have done the same back in the day. I’m not letting the insult slide though. My basic grasp of sign language allows me to silently reply that they are a pair of little wankers. This results in further exaggerated laughter.

Read More