Waiting...

"The fog is thick tonight," I thought as I drove home from work.

It was as though mother nature tucked in for the evening every park and body of water with a hazy comforter. Nights like this I become extra paranoid at myself driving at speeds greater than forty. I smile as I remember to place my hands at three and nine o'clock and for a few moments pretend to be a nervous sixteen year old on their drivers exam sweaty palms and all. Then I become even more paranoid once I remember I'm not the only one lost in mother natures fog quilt.

The headlights become my guides in this museum of mist, my mirrors turn into three new sets of eyes determined to catch anything out of the ordinary and my eye brows meet again in the middle of my forehead, furrowed in anticipation of the impending accident soon to happen.

"But I've never been in an accident..." as soon as the word "accident" rolled off my mental tongue, my righthand instinctly slapped my right cheek. Like an old superstitious lady snapping her fingers three times and spitting, I begin lecturing myself:

"What's wrong with you? You know better than to think that!"
"I know," eyes rolling back.
"Don't give me that look! If you knew then why did you do it?!"
"I don't know."
"You don't know a lot, do you?"
"I guess I don't."

I don't know when my inside voice became my mother when I was six. The drive is taking forever. The route usually takes ten minutes but now is slowly rolling pass the twenty mark. My mind starts going into random mode and I begin having thoughts of cars falling from the sky or monsters creeping out of the fog. I turn the radio lower, as though that'll help my trip home become easier and less dangerous. My blinker in the fog looks like cannons shooting from a pirate ship. That thought makes me feel a little better. As though my imaginary cannons are protecting my vessle from the falling cars and monsters. Bullseye with every shot.