TPV
The black van that had sped down the wrong way didn't stop until it crossed the borders of Swindon. On a deserted road, the driver hit the brakes with anger, screeching the vehicle to a halt.
The driver jerked forward despite wearing a seatbelt with that forceful movement. Their hands clutched the steering wheel in a deathly grip till their knuckles turned white. But their face, it was coloured blood red.
The anger was unbearable, and the frustration was too much.
"How could I miss it? How could I miss it?" Nobody was around to listen to those cries of anguish.
The person kept punching the steering, yelling and cursing. About an hour had passed, and yet this person didn't find any relief after the lamenting.
Their cries were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. The familiar number on the screen worsened the pent-up pain, and this anonymous person picked up the call in desperation.
"Where are you?" The man's voice sounded agitated.
