Roadblock
Suzan is sitting next to me, concentration on her face. She counts the hectometer posts in the roadside, names the numbers that are recorded on it. She's looking at the lines on the road surface. Is there exactly the same space between the white stripes? Are they the same tall? She's watching the road signs, meticulously keeps track of the odometer.
“Mom, you're allowed in here eighty, not eighty-two. Number ninety-five, thirty point one.”
“Honey, can you stop counting, please?”
'Are we gonna be on time? It's almost a quarter to six. Number ninety-seven, thirty point three.”
“We're on schedule, count in your head, Suzan, so I can't keep my mind from the road. You don't want me to take the wrong turn, do you?” Immediately I clamp my jaws together, but evil has already happened.
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