A fistful of storm in the sky tonight: splinters clouds into pieces. Such an air of drama: slams at my car: an exhilaration, a fright: I am caught up. And there, on the other side of the road, blue lights, flashing. Cars pulled to, hazard lights busy. A glimpse of torchlight, of shone cones in the far ditch.
Let the news be good, I am thinking. A bruise and a lesson learnt.
(How long now has my crashed friend been in hospital? He is bored, and grumpy, sat brooding over AutoTrader pictures of cars he isn't driving. Sometimes the second chance at life has a long painful labour.)
Let the news be good, I repeat, while the wind frets.
I tuck my car into the very top of the driveway.
Indoors, Dog is sprawling on the sofa; Cat, happy in her basket.