Jeff was waiting patiently outside in his old but carefully kept Porsche while Dickie ran back and forth from the car to the house. First, she'd left her phone and then she'd left her bathing suit and finally, her red sunglasses. Luckily, Jeff had years of experience with this, and for some reason, because she was NOT his girlfriend, he could tolerate this "inefficient" behavior. With a large sigh and a big smile, Dickie at last settled into the front seat and buckled her seatbelt. They both heard her your-battery-is-dying-beep on her phone, but Jeff shifted into first and pretended not to notice.
"So, has the Barista called?" Dickie casually inquired as they picked up speed on the freeway. "Emailed, actually," he replied offhand. And that was when the Semi pulling onto the 405, blew a tire, over-corrected and crashed directly onto their car....
What seemed like seconds, stretched into hours as Dickie and Jeff seemed fated to be squished like bugs. But then, as if they had suddenly popped into a new world, they both awoke gasping on a cold metal floor, in a bright harsh light.
"Oh no," Dickie said, red sunglasses tightly clutched in one hand, heart pounding. "I dragged you down to hell with me, babe."
....... to be continued.
