IT WAS RAINING AT THE GAS STATION. IT WAS RAINING AT THE GAS STATION AND HE COULD STILL HEAR ME SOBBING. MY EBAY-BOUGHT GO-KART SPED ABOUT IN CIRCLES I COULD ONLY SEE THE BLURRING PETROL ALL OVER THE FLOOR I PUSHED THE BRAKES. I PUSHED THE BREAKS AND BRACED LIKE THEY ALWAYS DID IN AIRPLANE SAFETY PAMPHLETS. IT WAS RAINING AND THE OIL SPRUNG ALIGHT WITH THE FRICTION I TRIED TO RUN AWAY I TRIED BUT MY FATHER PULLED ME BACK INTO CIRCLES. HIS OWN FACE LIKE AN ENGINE DOUSED IN ANTIFREEZE HE GRABBED MY SHOULDERS OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT NIGHT. I COUNTED I COUNTED UNTIL I CRASHED INTO THE SPEED LIMIT SIGN. I KEPT CRASHING. I WANTED TO BREAK HIS OLD CAR SMASH AN ELECTRICITY POLE INTO HIS RIBS AND LOSE COUNT OF ALL THE SECONDS SWARMING THROUGH MY HEAD. I ONLY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW MANY PEOPLE I HAD LEFT TO OVERTAKE ON THAT STUPID NIGHT WITH THE SKY SHATTERED LIKE A KALEIDOSCOPE WHERE THE RAIN HIT LIKE A NON NEWTONIAN FLUID HIT LIKE ANOTHER LOOK OF DISDAIN FROM JOS. IT WAS RAINING AT THE FUCKING GAS STATION AND HE COULD STILL HEAR ME SOBBING. HE WAITED FOR THE RAIN TO GROW LOUDER.