Awaiting Death: Tarmac Fodder
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Reggie lies beneath the eighteen-wheeler waiting for its driver to return.
The blacktop is warmer than the night air and as a result, his back is sweating. Reggie views it as a minor discomfort; one to be ignored along with the pebble that’s digging into his skull and the pungent odor of diesel fuel that’s burning his nostrils.
The external sounds of gears grinding, fluid dripping and distant conversations are drowned out by the internal sounds of the memory he is replaying. He remembers entering his house and hearing the bedsprings squeaking. This noise had rhythm to it and something inside him cracked causing a great coldness to spread out from his chest to his extremities. Still, he followed the sound when every part of him knew that the best option was to turn and leave.
Reggie staggered up the steps taking no care to be quiet and continued down the hallway where the bed’s squeaking was joined by heavy breathing and animalistic grunting. The moment he stared through the doorway he knew his life was over—Not because of the man that straddled his wife, but because of the look on his beloved’s face. She had been staring at the doorway, waiting for him to arrive, and by her hateful glare, she had wanted to do more than just destroy the relationship—She had wanted to burn him down with it.
This realization causes great pains to stab through his chest and stomach with such intensity he nearly vomits.
Above him Reggie hears the engine thunder to life and he watches the deep, black tire treads approach and ride up onto his face. There is no pain—Only a momentary sensation of weight. Then he hears the crunching sound of his skull cracking and the wet sound of his brains being squished.
If you have no questions or fears about your abilities, then you will learn nothing from your mistakes and know nothing about your limitations.