Dunkin is out of vanilla syrup for your mid-afternoon latte. You get it anyway, but can’t bring yourself to drink it. A white Escalade behind you has cruise set to breakneck. Your eyelids droop. I should get over, you think. There’s nowhere to the right. Your eyes flick up and over, check the rear, check the driver’s side. The Escalade is still there. There’s a gap on the left. You start to jump lanes, dipping into a pothole that cradles your tire. Fleetingly, you dream the hollow is a large, black dog. You hit the brakes. The Escalade doesn’t.

– AJ Miller