an-abandoned-2861384_1920 (2).jpg


Charlene pressed the accelerator to merge onto Highway 55, and the Chevy Impala hesitated a moment before shooting into traffic. It had been doing that since she left Tallahassee. So far she’d been ignoring it – a strategy that worked with Don for years before everything fell apart in a cataclysm she was still trying to reckon.
The car wouldn’t stand for that kind of inattention. Cars didn’t fix themselves. Cars couldn’t go to couples counseling or pledge to keep trying. If she wanted the Impala to take her to California to start over, she’d have to get a mechanic to take a look under the hood. Read more in Gravel