Tom Flanders Stuff

Headlights in the mirror. Who could it be? Anybody, literally anybody.

Well, anybody with a driver’s license. Or maybe they don’t have a license. Total outlaw scenario. Screw society. Steal a car and hunt down your next victim on the lonely highway. Find some sucker on a lonely late-night journey. Run him off the road. No witnesses. Take his miserable life. Steal his soul and sell it to the highest bidder.

The headlights turn onto a side road. The mirror is empty again. I find myself missing my psychotic road demon. I hope he’s OK.

Next rest area twenty-seven miles.