by Takashi Yama
A chill was penetrating to the skin of my back, taking a comfortable smooth slip along an orbit of like a great cup of coffee that was usually being placed at amusement parks.
Though stumping the brake pedal repeatedly like an estrual ape, it would be absolutely irresistible against hydraulics in oil. Because the bumpy surface of tires didn’t firmly grip to some handfuls of gravel, even though the braking surely seemed to be actually affected.
About a five centimeters projection of grooved concrete was coming through my view over the bonnet. The irresponsible handle was laughing at my sweaty hands. For a moment, I worried about the tires to blow out. But quickly I told myself that there was no leeway at all.
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Fellow Nature – 23 chapters, 4 pages (Online)
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