XVII
I’m driving, or at least I think so. I’ve stopped, in the darkness, my head hurts.
I’m sure I’m not a drive-in. I feel like I’m waiting for someone or something.
I have my hands on the steering wheel and next to me there’s no one.
I’ve stopped, yes, but not because of a red light; there aren’t any traffic lights in front of me, there aren’t anywhere. It’s just me standing in this position, am I waiting?
I don’t know, I don’t get it. One thing only is certain, and it’s the headache that pulses in my temples.
I see a shadow coming close from behind. I realize it because it has a lighter tone of the black around me so I manage to distinguish it, but not to recognize it.
A stranger? Or who else?
I have to ask him who he is, and maybe I could ask him if he has a painkiller to give
