Risk

To be sure, I was speeding. There’s no grey area on this point. ¬†Imagine I left a chemtrail in the wake of my Dodge Caliber, bright white in the early morning, but there was no one else on the road to see it. The speed limit was 50 mph, which I took for a suggestion on that particular stretch of highway so flat and straight that accidents had to be caused by sheer boredom. It was almost 5 am, just thirty minutes into what would be an 18 hour day of driving. Maybe, it was the knowledge of how much further I had to go, maybe it was the residual emotions of the day before when I’d left my boyfriend of two years in Phoenix, or maybe I just didn’t care that I was speeding, exactly five miles over the speed limit. It was a calculated risk.

So when the blue, white and red lights started behind me, it took  a moment to process. It was 5 am. It was dark. Continue reading