I appreciate your assistance in this matter, said no one in Miami ever

The stu­pid fuck­head wasn’t just in the wrong lane — they were two lanes too far, with no way out of the ex­it lane be­fore the exit.

But they made space and time for their SUV’s last-second ex­o­dus, rather pre­sump­tu­ous­ly bor­row­ing the space where my car should have been. And their turn sig­nal must not have burned out — could there be any oth­er ex­pla­na­tion for such an ir­re­spon­si­ble slight?

I con­grat­u­lat­ed them on a ma­neu­ver well-executed with my horn. They didn’t seem to no­tice. As our cars drift­ed fur­ther apart, I found that for some rea­son I just had to gaze up­on this spec­i­men of unadul­ter­at­ed Miami dri­ver­dom. I glanced over and saw just the sil­hou­ette of a pro­file. Only but a mo­ment lat­er, a lighter came in­to view and lit the cig­a­rette be­tween their lips.

Not sur­prised, not even a little.