Green Valley Lane 1D

POST ROAD, 1/2 MILE. That’s right, I forgot about the Post Road. Haven’t been done there since — yes, since tha day Sheila. We looked at a farm house, about a mile down. Coming out was another waay to keep deluding ourselves about where we were heading. Developers hadn’t applied for zoning changes, it would be years before they’d start building out here. What were we going to do with twenty acres? Waste of time.

Turn right on the Post Road, without signaling. You following me, box boy? Why, yes you are. There’s a cross-road a couple miles ahead, can’t remember its name but I know it leads back to the county road. No way box boy would take this route, it wouldn’t make any sense for him if he really is going to the subdivisions. Turn left here, lose this guy off my tail, drive on to Green Valley Lane.

Road’s dark. Creepy dark. Headlights bouncing off snowbanks that look like icebergs, the fields on either side of the road barren, snow only partly covering yellow clumps of cornstalks. No life anywhere. That farmhouse Sheila and I looked at, comes up on the left. Not a single light on, interior or exterior.

Glance up at the rearview mirror. Guy behind me is so close, light from his headlights reflect off the chrome on my rear, partly lighting his interior. Can just make out his silhouette, definitely a guy, wearing a hat. Fedora. Can’t see his face.

Cross-road coming up, this time I flip the signal for the left turn. Like I’m sending a message, this is where I leave you, got it? Accelerate so I can see his front lights in the rearview. Good, he’s not signaling.  There’s a stop sign but I don’t care, barely slow down to make the turn. Head down the cross road a bit, then decelerate. Check the rearview.

The man in the boxy import has come to a full stop. He does not signal. Go on, pull forward, be on your way.

And then. He turns. Left. And his headlights beam in my direction.

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