Your car pulls forward onto the Bay Bridge. The sea to your side seems to stretch on infinitely. The cars in front of you seem to stretch on infinitely. There is no noise but the distant slosh of waves. Your car hasn’t moved in an hour. Your car hasn’t moved in three hours. No cars have moved. You notice that the man in the car in front of you is dead. The sloshing gets louder. Your car will never move.
Maryland Gothic
Published
A Middleground 