When traffic flows, all lanes at the right speed, all drivers in the zone, the commute feels like surfing. The wave is perfect. But then, ahead, a flash of red, a tap of the brakes, and the tube crashes, knocking us down, drowning.
Imagist – Fiction / Poetry / Photography
When traffic flows, all lanes at the right speed, all drivers in the zone, the commute feels like surfing. The wave is perfect. But then, ahead, a flash of red, a tap of the brakes, and the tube crashes, knocking us down, drowning.