Check MateAir-conditioning went first, my car quite suddenly a leather-lined Easy Bake Oven. Though, instead of sticking to the pan, I was sticking to the seat. Melting into it, in fact.
“Not good, Dan. Not good,” I lamented. And no, I don’t usually talk to myself like that, which was yet another sign that I was severely overheating at a terrifyingly rapid rate. Which, of course, explained why my shirt was flung off, then my shoes and socks. Kind of explained why my shorts went next. My boxers? Well, it was an abandoned side road out in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, so, um, why not have a little fun while I broiled and seared and easy baked? “Aah, that’s better.”
That is until it wasn’t.
K-chunk, k-chunk, I soon heard, my car rattling, followed by k-thump, k-thump, which was my heart
