Bolting

(Oringally published 4/14/2011)

Nora stood in the kitchen, staring at the yellow slip of paper on the table. How could she have been so stupid? It was such a beautiful day and she wasn’t really paying attention, just feeling the delightfully warm spring breeze blowing through her long blond hair, the top down and the deep blue sky above her lifting her mood after weeks of rain. The sun warmed her, comforted her. She’d been distracted by all the clothes she’d found on sale – two pairs of slacks, a lovely blouse, and, her real accomplishment, a new pair of sandals that fit comfortably and looked great. All for sixty percent off. Greg couldn’t be mad at her for spending too much money on clothes, not these, at least. She jumped at the sound of the siren behind her, then looked down and gasped. She was doing ninety-five miles an hour. She looked up at the Highway Patrol car filling the mirror, lights ablaze. Even in the daylight they hurt her eyes.

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