“Pull up a little farther.” “Why?” “There,” Manny pointed. “I don’t want her to see me.” Desirée stood framed by the window. She hadn’t seen them yet, and Manny hoped she would continue looking the other way until he drove off. “An admirer?” “More like an old nightmare.” Clara pulled the car a hundred feet ahead and stopped. She turned in the seat and faced him. “I’m not so sure about this.” “It’ll be fine. I still got one good eye I can drive with.” He winked it, bringing sympathetic pain to the bandaged one. “I can still drive good enough,” he insisted. “But my car. My baby. Willie said you’re not the best of drivers with both eyes working, and cracked ribs that double you over in pain every time you hit a bump won’t help any.” “Is that all you’re worried about? Your car?” “I’m worried about you, too.” Clara looked at Manny and leaned over the seat. Her lips brushed his cheek. Manny felt the blood rush to his face and blurted, “What can I hit just driving the few miles to Reuben’s?”
What do You think about Death Along The Spirit Road?
