Hurry (#27 of 365)

The anxiety is real.

His knuckles pulsed white. His fingers clamped the steering wheel and his palms pooled sweat. His jaw clenched until his teeth hurt.

He repeated ‘hurry’ and his mind drifted. He barely saw the road.

His gut told him when he swerved. His hands straightened the wheel but his concentration was elsewhere.

His foot flattened the pedal and the car growled angrily. Heavy rain shot like arrows onto the windshield. It blurred the dark road, playing havoc with the headlights.

“I need to get home. I have to be home.”

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