Amanda steps on the clutch and drops her hand to the gear lever, shifting up to fifth as the freeway straightens out. Surrounding her is an ocean of nodding yellow wheat with an asphalt ribbon running through it. Heading towards her on the other side of the road is an older style S class Mercedes. She recognises the shape. As it rolls closer she’s compelled, as always, to look. She studies the driver in quick glances. A hint of familiarity in the curve of his nose and the heavy shoulders quickens her pulse, but the glasses are wrong. Her gaze flicks back to the road ahead. It wasn’t him. It never is.
I missed the train – I wasn’t even close. I was still ambling through the carpark trying to wake up when I heard the station announcer caution its departure, and I didn’t even think about running for it. So it left. Without me.
For first time in his overly long period spent as a high school student, Peter did what his teacher told him to do. True, those words were “Run, goddammit, ru..arrrggghhhh, crack, squelch, arrrgggghhhhh, slpat!” but there was a first time for everything and as he sprinted down the hall behind the rest of his class, Peter just knew that Mr Blowers, his now partially deceased biology teacher, would have died happy knowing he’d finally gotten through to his most recalcitrant student.