My sister's car, old and stale in its old new-car scent, musky leather and deep-fried takeout mingling in the air.
Dark concrete road flying like a treadmill under the bumping wheels, screeching and howling.
She's not driving. No, I'm in the driver's seat, my hands around the wheel. And I catch a few floating question marks from the flying chaotic mess of my mind.
How did I get here?
Where am I going?
When did my sneakers grow too tired to sing?
YOU ARE READING
Entropy
Short StoryA story about love, despair, and chaos, told in fragments. Her screams echoed inside the glass coffin. I heard them. She scratched her fingernails bloody on the hard case that kept her inside. I felt the blood trickle down my own hands. She pounded...
