Red Light

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The trees whizzing by are just beginning to brown at the tips but today is sunny and warm, the sky so bright and blue I'm nearly squinting behind my sunglasses. I can feel Cam looking at me from the passenger seat.

"I think I'm in love with you," he says. I bob my head along to the radio and keep my eyes on the road. On my left, street lamps blur past in the median, unlit lamps curving toward both sides of the highway like insect antennae.

Cam leans forward, turns the radio dial all the way to the left. Now only the wind is roaring, whipping my hair around erratically.

"Did you hear me?" He touches my arm and I glance over at him. "I love you," he says again, leaning towards me and smiling. Up ahead, I see red brake lights begin to illuminate and I ease my foot off the gas slightly.

"I, yeah," I falter. "Thank you." I say. The car in front of me slows to a stop. I feel Cam's eyes searching my face but I can't look at him. I flick my hand down to the turn signal and change lanes. In my periphery, I see Cam's grin fade, then disappear.

I press firmly on the brake now, coming to a standstill. A red sedan on my right and a black SUV on my left pen us in. Cam leans back in his seat. A bead of sweat rolls down my back.

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