Furniture in the Car

09.17.08 |

Putting furniture in the car can be quite a challenge sometimes, he thought as pushed in the last couple of items. With a final heave, he managed to slot the items into the car somehow. He sat down and pondered his situation for a moment. All of that oak furniture and he didn’t need it where he was going. In fact, he was beginning to wonder why he’d even bothered to put the furniture in there in the first place. Driving reasonably fast, he looked back at all the things that had gone wrong, marveling at the fact that they’d caused him so much emotional trauma at the time, but now they actually seemed like what they were: distant memories of an era in his life that should be forgotten. He’d always liked driving like this. Fast. Along cliff-top roads. Dangerously, like he’d lived his life. He paid no heed to the speeding restriction signs, nor to the wailing of the sirens behind him. They’d been following him for some time now, he was starting to wonder if they’d give up and go home or if they were in fact in it for the duration. His foot pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal. Faster. The bend in the road that he’d planned for came a lot sooner than he thought it would. He gave a little shrug. Not to matter, he thought, it was a good drive, at least. Hitting the maximum speed that his car would allow, he pressed on for the bend. The bend turned a sharp corner and went left. He went straight on. Over. Down. The furniture in his car weighed it down. It sank in the lake below. They didn’t find his body for weeks.