By Duff Marshall
When Ted pulled closed the overhead door, it slammed shut with a sound that was decisive and final.
The steering wheel felt cool in the palms of his hands. He gripped it as if preparing for a long journey.
He gazed at the upholstered ceiling with the water stain that looked like a cloud. He tried to lose himself in it.
He concentrated on his breathing, inhaling the earthy smell of oil—surprisingly, not an altogether unpleasant odor.
Tasting bitter fear, he edged toward unconsciousness and dully wondered how many of his senses he would need wherever he was headed next.
I wonder what sad events brought Ted to this point of no return. In these difficult times it is easy to imagine that there were many. Well and concisely expressed.
Thanks for the encouraging comments, Constanee.
Good descriptions building to the sad conclusion.
I’m grateful for the feedback, Susan.