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.