Not Rescued

[Angela]

As she pulled up behind the white sedan, she noticed a little silver emblem on the trunk of the car ahead of her which looked like a tiny little stretched out window, and something told her that meant the car was a Lincoln, not that it mattered, because a lot of things she thought didn't matter.

But it itched to suppose that it might really be a little window with the shades drawn tight, and she wondered if there could be anyone trapped in the trunk  and if they could somehow see out, but of course she knew they could not see out since the window was made of metal and it made her wonder if she had an ice pick somewhere in the car, to punch a hole in the window to let in some air, just in case someone was indeed in the trunk, and then she realized this way of thinking was what her doctor termed irrational.

So, instead, she followed the man in the sedan for a while, thinking he might pull into the Sav a Lot parking lot, in which case she could park next to him and wait for him to go into the store and then get out and just knock on the trunk lid to see if anyone was in there.

But he  passed the Sav a Lot, so she quickly maneuvered to the man's left, and she looked at him sidelong, and saw his graying hair and dark glasses. The dark glasses were what gave him away - there was someone in the trunk, and as the man turned to the right, in her heart she admitted he was going free.

Then a song came on the radio, and she knew all the words, and she sang them until she returned home, where her Brazilian begonias were so much larger than she realized, thickly pressing themselves against the window screen, their wings spotted and dark, their heavy pink blooms blessing her like so much sacred wisteria.

[Judy Thompson]

I love the "Lady or the Tiger" aspect of this, Angela:  is she really mad, or just seeing what's really there?    How beautifully drawn this is,  right down to the blessing of the begonias.  Nice work.

[Mike Handley]

This is sublime, milady. Truly.

[Bill Floyd]

Phantasmagorical.  

And she need not worry, at least not yet: thinking such thoughts is merely what humans do, especially when they're avoiding other stressful subjects--the strain has to manifest somewhere.  It's when she actually starts pounding on stranger's trunk lids that the line has been crossed.  

[Robert Crisman]

It's as if the song disconnected--rescued?--her from her previous obsession. Maybe a way of indicating she recognizes her madness. Of course, there might have been a girl in that trunk...In any case, nicely done.

[Teresa]

I'm always amazed at how easily you catch every nuance of a story, no important detail forgotten.  I get deliciously lost in them.

[Cita]

Sigh.  She's a genius with her mind, is she not?  Angela... thank you. 

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

Glad she could make the transition from worrying about the victim in the trunk to admiring her growing begonias.  I never could.

[Gita]

Magical thinking is irrational???    And anyway, with all the missing children nowadays, who is to say there wasn't someone in the trunk?

This is a window into your thinking and I feel privileged to be given a glimpse.

 

[Paul de Denus]

wow Angela, that was great- taken down the road again with a great story - now I have to go and check my Lincoln's trunk:)

[Jeanette Cheezum]

I liked her way of thinking, she's an organizer of extreme thoughts.  She just forgot her Lithium and maybe she could become a great writer.