It's Still Life

Queue Jumping

We’re driving home, the rain is biblical, lashing down. The street seems slicked with resin, and we sit in a queue of cars, red taillights blurring as the wipers squeak across the windscreen.

“At least we don’t have to worry about the hosepipe ban,” I say, “this rain will wash the car, and the garden sure …”

He’s looking in the rear view mirror at a car approaching a bit too fast for comfort. He mumbles something that sounds hyper-derogatory, but I just keep rattling on because that’s what he expects me to do…

“…and the garden sure needs the rain,” I say. I watch water curling on itself and flooding over the manhole cover.

“Why are we just wasting time in this lane?” I ask.
“Because we’re turning left at the roundabout.” It’s one of his side-glances. He looks as bleak as a puritan.

I hesitate, but I have this aching feeling that the four horsemen might ride by any minute, and I’d rather not be in their way, so I say,

“But there’s nobody in the right lane. We could take that lane, keep right, drive all the way round and still take the exit that you want, and avoid this long queue.

He looks at me with unfiltered surprise, and quickly moves into the right lane and into the roundabout.

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Words: 227. Written for the Unicorn Challenge . Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.