The OneWord prompt of the day is “keychain.”
He’s a casualty and he knows it.
The car rockets down lonely two-lane blacktop, faded yellow center lines blur in the straight-aways, as he puts pressure on the accelerator.
The car hums a satisfying tune. Most of the rumble is drowned out by the 80s classic rock and the scrape of his keychain when he banks the car into the curves.
One final straight-away and then the curve he knows all too well. It’s taken lives, her life, and soon his.
He unbuckles his seatbelt, turns up the music, The Kink’s “You Really Got Me” so he smiles – and pats the breast pocket of his jacket, where the letter rests that explains all this foolishness.