Must swerve. Must avoid.

While I’m sitting at a red light on my way to work, the guy in the Kia in front of me rolls down his window.  That’s understandable, it’s a warm sunny day and I’ve got my window open, too.

The sound I hear is something akin to what I imagine a bronchial camel would sound like, and it’s followed by a sphere of something milky white streaked with yellow flying from the window of the Kia on a trajectory that ends in a connection with the asphalt and a juicy splat.

I hit my turn signal and pray that one of my fellow motorists will let me over.
I have got to change lanes.
I do not want that muck on my tires.

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Filed under autobigraphy, conflict, driving, flash fiction, humor, Uncategorized, writing

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