Authors: Howard Owen
Turn Signal (27 page)
The day she and Shannon left, I was feeling particularly blue. I thought that, if I just pulled my punches on the second book and then never wrote anything again, I could still go back. I'd even have a little money in my pocket. The fact that I didn't even know where I would be living after I left Gerald's made me think harder than I usually do about returning to Speakeasy, Virginia
.
That day, I went to the ocean beach. I left the dog behind, accusing and convicting me with her sad eyes
.
“
You're supposed to be a watchdog, dammit,” I said to her as I drove past, but still I felt guilty. Sometimes, I take her with me, but this time, for some reason, I didn't
.
The road is narrow and wooded, with a sand shoulder good for nothing but getting stuck. It has plenty of curves, and much of the traffic is weekenders from the city who bring their driving habits and skills with them. There aren't many good or safe places to stop
.
He was almost out on the highway, because there wasn't anywhere else much for him to stand. But then I recognized him, and I hit the brakes for a brief second, causing the guy behind me to blow his horn. And then I took off again. If I don't look back, I told myself, all of this can be a midlife crisis, a little breakdown that can yield a lot of funny stories around the grill or at the diner over the years. This can be a diversion instead of a destination. This does not have to be your life
.
He had that same white Hefty bag with him. I saw that clearly as I drove past
.
A quarter-mile ahead was a rare wide spot in the road, next to a trash bin, a place where you could turn around
.
I braked slowly and put on my signal
.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Howard Owen
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1212-6
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