Apparently we are all going to be portions for foxes
"Thanks for keeping her warm for me," he says as he slides into the driver's seat and I shift over to the passenger's. He tosses his bag in the back but holds onto his gun, and lets out a laugh that assures me he knows who's in the position of power. As we tear off toward the horizon the wind whips my hair around my face. With the harsh evening sun at our backs making our darkened, slightly sweaty skin gleam I dream that I look like a golden god. The light through my chaotically curly and flying blond hair gives me a halo, I see through the mirror glued cheaply to the back of the visor. A subjugated sun god, I muse silently. I wince every he's mistimes a gear shift or slams on the brake. I stick my hand out the window and stroke the door's paint job reassuringly. "Don't worry," I whisper to my baby. "We'll be rid of this lunatic soon."