Eva is having trouble keeping her eyes – and the car – on the road. Every time she looks at a road sign, the car veers towards the shoulder.
Dany presses forward between the front seats. “How’s the driving going?” she asks. But when Eva glances at her, the car swerves. “Whoa. Eyes on the road.”
Eva nods and stares straight ahead, gripping the wheel in two fists.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Eva says, “but every time I slow down, to put two full chevrons between us and the car ahead, some budinsky moves into our lane and obliterates my safe zone. One point five chevrons,” she says, sighing. “It’s the best I can do, okay. God.”
“Uh, okay,” Dany says. “What’s … a chevron?”
Eva looks at her and swerves.
“Road,” Dany calls out.
Slowly, Dany retreats into the back seat again. Safer for
