“Shit,” her father cursed as they drove down the highway.
“What?” her mother questioned her father’s language while he switched lanes heading towards an exit.
“The fuel gauge, it says we’re empty,” he responded, aggravated with his wife because she forgot to fill up the tank.
“But, I just filled it up yesterday,” she defended from the passenger seat of the mid-sized sedan.
“Look! Look at this thing, it says it’s empty!” he pointed to the arrow on the dial that said “E”, while rolling into a Mobil station and getting out to put more gas in.
During all of this, she sat in the back seat, blaring music into her ears and reading out of one of her favorite books, oblivious to her parents. She was careful to not let her parents know what she’s listening to or to play it too loud. Just loud enough so that was the only thing she heard.
Her father got back in the car and put the key in the ignition.
“Shit,” he cursed again.
“What?” his frantic wife wondered, not approving of her husband cursing.
“It still stays the car doesn’t have any gas!” he yelled into the small car.
“That isn’t good,” she worriedly answered, “What if there’s a leak?”
“Then, I guess we’ll find out,” he assumed, risking the danger that could cause.
But, they didn’t know what would happen further along on the highway. The damage that risk could- would -cause.
