Miller stood in the rain as if he had lost his soul.
His gaze was locked on the windshield of this car.
Even through the heavy rain and the reflective glass, I knew he saw me.
The light turned green.
Derek was just about to step on the gas.
Suddenly, Miller lunged frantically in front of the car.
Screech!
Derek slammed on the brakes. The tires made a harsh, grating sound against the waterlogged pavement.
Miller pressed his hands onto the hood. Through the windshield, his bloodshot eyes were fixed tightly on me.
His lips trembled violently.
"What's going on? Is he trying to stage a car accident?"
Derek frowned, preparing to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out.
"Derek, don't," I said, pressing his arm. "I know him."
Derek turned and glanced at me, then at the pathetic man outside
