On the side of the road, you turn the car off and throw your keys into the tree line–for a moment you feel bad about littering and wish you had scribbled in a short line about donations to a wildlife charity in lieu of flowers, but it’s too late now and your phone is in your car, which is locked and which you don’t have the keys to anymore and you need to stop stalling. Instead of standing there thinking about the things you wish you would have done, you start walking. There’s a pedestrian bridge over the expressway about a mile away and your only obstacle on the way down is a chain link fence but you’ve spent the past week practicing jumping over the one in your backyard and know that you need a running start to clear it. When you get to the bridge though, you’re just in time to catch the flash of a jacket as it sails over the railing followed by a chorus of car horns. You wonder for a moment if you’d be able to run back and find your keys in time to catch the first patrol car as it arrives at top speed, but decide you’ll settle for the two story drop from your neighbor’s split-level, on second thought.
Megan Cassiday is a creative writing student from Michigan and the EIC of Dead Fern Press. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in CLOVES Literary, Bullshit Lit, The Daily Drunk and others. You can find her on Twitter @MeganLyn_
Back Patio Press 