top of page

Probably Nothing

He hates driving at night. It’s too quiet, like a tragedy’s poised to happen.


She’s asleep next to him and he hates that too. Makes him feel like a chauffeur. Just as he contemplates waking her, something dashes into the glare of the headlights. It stares straight through the windscreen, straight into him.


He breaks hard, eyes closing instinctively. He wonders what the impact will feel like, sound like.


Then, nothing.


“What happened?” she croaks, throat thick with sleep, awake and gripping the seat.

He scans the vacant road, the grassy banks. Only darkness.


“I'm not sure,” he says. “Probably nothing.”

4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All