for
7/1/2000
A girl stands in the tall grass beside a hilltop road picking wildflowers. Her car is parked on the other side. The afternoon is pleasant, and the sun is out.
She glances up, quickly, through scraggly tresses of bright auburn hair as a grey car comes over the ridge. Due to the light, she can see only reflections in its windshield. It passes as she continues to pick flowers, and some time goes by.
The grey car appears again. The driver goes by, slower now, on her side of the road, and continues out of view over the ridge, only to turn around farther down the hill and come back her way. He pulls in behind her car, rolling down his window. No music is heard from the car.
"Hi," says the young man. "I just thought you deserve an explanation before you get scared out of your mind. You have the same hair, size and car as a friend of mine. Sorry about this." Sure, she replies hesitantly. He rolls up his window and drives away for good. In the human silence that follows, she finishes picking wildflowers.
The man in the car was me.
Touch the Toast