LUCKY - Fiction

Published in Pour Vida Zine (Fall 2015)


He rolls his window up, left arm cranking at the handle (one of those manual windows), and tells me that this is the most dangerous road in California. It is like a ribbon through the hills, a curled tongue, and although he is convincing, I do not believe him.

“Because of the wind,” he says. His window is up now, sealed closed and both hands are on the steering wheel again – a rare instance. He is perpetually doing something other than
driving while he drives: taking off his sweatshirt, adjusting the heater or the AC, fiddling with his phone to play music, to check messages, to take a picture of me or the sunset or of something else beautiful. He drives fast and it is hard for me to trust him because of the way his car sounds, how it creaks and rattles and feels like it might break, fall apart, come loose in a shattering of pieces.