The sudden return to silence hurt. Ten fingers began to tap the steering wheel, making a dull, monotonous, rhythmic sound. Like rain. The dashboard dials glowed fluorescent green. There was no other light for miles around. No stars. Just a very faint gleam, over there, behind the hills, revealing a faraway town. The right hand moved from the steering wheel, caressing the gear lever, as one might the head of a cat, or the handle of a gun. It was a good car, powerful, reliable, grey. Eleven thirty, they shouldn’t be long now. Staring at the second hand made it seem as if it had stopped. But no, it was continuing its relentless passage, like a donkey turning the grindstone of a mill.Then suddenly coming over the hill, the beam of headlights, night paling, receding … The right hand grasped the lever and changed up a gear. The left hand gripped the steering wheel. The right headlamp of the car hurtling over the hill was skewed towards the verge. The grey car, all its lights off, accelerated forward like a bagatelle ball.
What do You think about The Front Seat Passenger (2014)?
