You are driving straight

You drive straight ahead, past the first set of lights, the second, and then a right. You can't miss it, because the second set of lights is that restaurant we went to once, the one where you loved the shrimp. Then you take the main road for a few blocks. You drive, turning on the wipers because it's raining, ignoring the traffic lights because they're off at night and just flashing. You just have to drive straight ahead. You can turn on the radio, which will play some very slow jazz. You'll glance in the mirror and see that there's nothing behind you. Neither behind nor ahead. You're alone on the empty streets. You can feel at ease, but don't speed up. Drive calmly, without stress. It's raining, so there's no point in getting carried away. You start to wonder how it is that I'm gone, that only the memory of shrimp remains. You don't like fish, but you've grown fond of me. You have no sense of direction in the city, but thanks to me, you've learned. You decide not to cry, but the tears start to flow. You're furious. You turn the wipers on high and curse under your breath. Or rather, you shout that you don't care, that you don't want this anymore. You bang your fist on the steering wheel, but the honking horn adds a touch of humor. You honk again, and again. You start laughing. Slowly, you start laughing, and you laugh harder and harder, simultaneously, unconsciously accelerating. I told you not to speed up, but you couldn't hear me laughing. You laugh loudly, and you're already going over 60 km/h. The wipers are going like crazy. Rain is lashing furiously against the windshield. And you laugh. You laugh. And in that laughter, at the last moment, you spot a car. The first one in several minutes. The first one moving, which, pulling out of the subordinate lane very quickly, hits you. You notice it and instinctively press the brake pedal all the way down. Instinctively, you turn the steering wheel and instinctively, you press your left foot against the wiper. You start to skid. You're sliding sideways through the intersection. The car swerves around. It swings around twice and stops behind the intersection, directly in your direction. For a moment, you stare at the windshield wipers, whirring furiously. You grip the steering wheel and watch. Then you feel your foot pressing the brakes start to hurt. Rain drums dully on the hood, and you glance in the mirrors, seeing that nothing happened, that you'd somehow just missed the other car. Turning off the wipers, you slump back in your seat. For a moment, you want to think it was a close call, that it was so close, but then it occurs to you that far, far too much separated you, your car, and your damn memories. You get angry again, blaming me again. You curse under your breath again, and as you press the accelerator, you look at me with a look I wouldn't exactly like. You give me a contemptuous look. As if you wanted nothing to do with me. But you do. You have it, my love, you have it, and there's nothing you can do about it. You ate shrimp there with me. You enjoyed that moment. Like so many others. And then it all ended,Because everything comes to an end, and only you decide whether you treat it as a lesson, a tragedy, or, as I would recommend, a delightful comedy. No, you don't want to hear it. You rip my photo off the cockpit and throw it out the open window. It calms you down momentarily. But only momentarily. Because the tears are coming again. You don't want them, but they are. You try to calm down, but you only swerve to the right. You try to wipe your face with the back of your hand, but you accidentally turn on the windshield wipers. You try to laugh again at the horn, but this time there's nothing funny about it. You realize the futility of this driving. You say loudly that you have to go back, go home, so you swerve again, right, and right. You blow your nose into a tissue you've dug out of your bag and, with a forced smile, you shout that you'll handle it all. But seeing the symbol of the inverted yellow triangle, you already know that compliance isn't your strong suit. So you accelerate. Accelerate. Accelerate. You hope you might hit someone. That in the loneliness of the night, you'll hit someone equally lonely and it'll be two birds with one stone. Two birds with one! You laugh and accelerate even faster. A wolf's sated, a sheep's whole, which adds to the gas and a truly insane laugh! In March, you're laughing like a pot of steam, and as you enter the main street, you slam straight into the car on the left. Instinctively, you press the brake pedal all the way down. Instinctively, you turn the steering wheel, and instinctively, you press your left foot against the windshield wiper. You skid. You glide sideways through the intersection. The car swerves around. It swerves twice and stops behind the intersection, directly in the direction you're traveling. For a moment, you stare at the maddeningly frenzied wipers. You grip the steering wheel and watch. Then you feel your foot, pressing the brake, start to hurt. The rain is pattering dully on the hood of the car, and you look in the mirrors and see that nothing happened, that by some miracle you passed that car.That in the loneliness of the night you'll hit someone equally lonely and it'll be two birds with one stone. Two birds with one! You laugh and accelerate even faster. The wolf is full and the sheep are whole, which adds to the gas and a truly insane laugh! In March, you're laughing like a pot of steam, and as you enter the main street, you slam straight into the car on the left. Instinctively, you press the brake pedal all the way down. Instinctively, you turn the steering wheel, and instinctively, you press your left foot against the windshield wiper. You skid. You glide sideways through the intersection. The car swerves around. It swerves twice and stops behind the intersection, directly in the direction you're traveling. For a moment, you stare at the maddeningly frenzied wipers. You grip the steering wheel and watch. Then you feel the foot pressing the brake begin to ache. The rain is pattering dully on the hood of the car, and you look in the mirrors and see that nothing happened, that by some miracle you passed that car.That in the loneliness of the night you'll hit someone equally lonely and it'll be two birds with one stone. Two birds with one! You laugh and accelerate even faster. The wolf is full and the sheep are whole, which adds to the gas and a truly insane laugh! In March, you're laughing like a pot of steam, and as you enter the main street, you slam straight into the car on the left. Instinctively, you press the brake pedal all the way down. Instinctively, you turn the steering wheel, and instinctively, you press your left foot against the windshield wiper. You skid. You glide sideways through the intersection. The car swerves around. It swerves twice and stops behind the intersection, directly in the direction you're traveling. For a moment, you stare at the maddeningly frenzied wipers. You grip the steering wheel and watch. Then you feel the foot pressing the brake begin to ache. The rain is pattering dully on the hood of the car, and you look in the mirrors and see that nothing happened, that by some miracle you passed that car.