Angry Muscles (passing by)
A late-model convertible Corvette was pulling into the merge lane as it was ending and I flashed around him for the win. He immediately flipped me off. I reply with my finger as well. He and his dated atomic-orange Vette fade back in the traffic. I wasn’t sure what he was so mad about, but I didn’t want him to catch up. I didn’t want words. I just wanted to get home. I always drive fast.
I did want to ask him, with everything going so right in your life, what makes you so pissed off all the time?
Read more Short-Short Stories from John.