I sat alone, the car at the clifftop park, facing the ferocious redness of sunset. The gift remained unopened on the seat, despite temptation leading me to undo the curled ribbon, to reading the card “Yours, affectionately.” I knew what was inside. I wanted innocence reinstated!
Opening the package would confirm complicity, condemning my ethical self to eternity in the gutter, hollow speculation, familial derision. But months of connivance, planning, and questionable-decision making, had led to this cardboard box. I had desperately wanted it, but now, within my grasp, I started to snivel, snot and tears moving down my chin.
The backstory was long, convoluted and boring: an explanation would waste time, so too, justifying my travelled road!
The car and I flew seaward!