A Little Something Until More Somethings Come To Mind

I drive apathetically to work, squinting towards the middle-aged sun. Autumn is near, yet the city is coated in a haze of pollution and humidity. The people I meet along the way wear their cars with an acute sense of pride. Their destinations are more important than their morals when they don their multi-thousand dollar disguises. "How do you live with yourselves?” I wonder as they swerve in front of old ladies trying to cross the street or force busloads of children to stop short.

My apathy dies, butchered by intense bitterness, as a rusty moving van cuts me off. My horn bleats senselessly and my middle fingers wave savagely as I invent demonic swear words. Minutes later the van has disappeared down an alleyway, and I realize then that it is too late for me. I have let the bastards win. My car too is my mask – a convenient excuse for me to disregard common decency. I speed up, attempting to block a turning car from getting in front of me. As they shake their fists I shake my head. "Seriously, how do you live with yourself?”