This Life Reevaluation Seats Eight

Between the gas station and the house, Juliet looks into the depths of the grim reaper’s eyes. Light, a pair of horrible waist height lights come into Juliet’s startled eyes. The tires sound sharply as they turn away from Juliet. She’s gone and gone so fast that she can’t even really comprehend that she’s out of danger. Without thought, the minivan changes into drive 2 and barrels down the dark alley with impressive abandon. Juliet is stuck in philosophical gear. If such a gear existed for a car it would exist solely for the purpose of making donuts.

Even at home, in her bed she’s still stuck recalling dark green panels and the black wall tires. It’s not so much the sound but it’s the moment of flight before falling to the hard asphalt. It’s a little bit of obsession but mostly it’s the entirely rational fear of being broken and dying where no one can hear her. Moreover, what she’s doing is trying to imagine nothing. It’s hard because she has never seen nothing before and can’t quite understand what it looks like. The paradox reels inside her on a circular gear and it doesn’t stop.

With time it slows and she’s able to live her life again. Still it lurks, the question wounds but she heals quicker than her cuts can open. Five hours and it moves to the back of her mind. It sits there as she watches old movies and eats cereal from the box. The van is probably now in a garage resting but Juliet is awake alive and stealing time from sleep in order to celebrate her stupid trivial life which she love so dearly.