The sedan came to a smooth halt, and Simmons smiled at her broadly. The small, mousy woman tied up in the seat beside him returned his stare with a look of deep concern. It was a cold, wet, miserable morning, and one could hardly see five meters forward. The woman shifted around uncomfortably in her seat.
He turned the car off, but left the keys in. They said nothing. Some long-forgotten oldies softly drifted out of the speakers. As the minutes passed, the elements took over, and the windows once again became foggy and opaque.
“So, what do you think?” He asked, crossing his hands in his lap. He gazed out of the window nostalgically, despite the fact that it was nearly solid-white. “Are you seeing this, Marie…? Hmm? Do you know what I see out there?”
Owing to her situation, she resisted making an obvious quip at his expense.
She eventually found her voice. “Uhh. N-no. I can’t see.”
Simmons rolled his eyes dramatically. “Jesus christ… WE’RE AT A LAKE, MARIE.”
“I-it’s a very n-nice lake.” She muttered.
“Yes. Yes, it is. It is a very nice lake. Can you see the partially submerged tree? The small island in the middle? That boulder far to the right?”
“…No.”
He acknowledged her answer with a small nod. He started the car, and let his foot rest gently on the brake; it slowly lurched forward. The slope downwards wasn’t particularly steep. Slowly, the car descended. The sickly, foreign sound of rushing water filled the cabin.
“Okay, OKAY! FINE! Maybe yoga isn’t for you.”
“THANK YOU.”, he lets out with an exasperated sigh. He shifts the car into reverse.
You’re two missed payments away from foreclosure, and if you lose your job, the insurance that pays for your special needs kid is gonna be done, and so will you. Where is your fucking God? Is it the same one as those bearded bastards, cutting off clits in Yemen? You’re two more Fox News viewings away from being that guy.
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