Fuel For Thought
Oct 14th, 2019 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
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I miss him already.
Longing for his accommodation from my customary position on his lap. His immediate response to desires communicated with a caress of my foot.
This will be our last intimacy for some time. The intercooler died. The journey to the garage is an uncomfortable affair. Accelerating by exhaling, barely contacting the pedal. Still plunging the road behind into an apocalyptic black cloud of unburnt diesel.
Miles per gallon reading’s down to yards. Glares from other road users threaten to ignite the fuel trail.
“Go green!” They yell.
Jersey is green. Spruce Green. Says so on his logbook.
From Guest Contributor Frances Tate
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