driving her crazy

If only he’d seen it this way, earlier. It would’ve saved him yeads. But, then, they’d never been down this road. Right lane ends, ahead. Merge left. She was a mergerightaway driver. He fancied smaller cars and drove right as long as possible, before finding an opening into which to squeeze. Not rudely, mind you. But politely, which is not to say the dozens he’d passed felt very good about him. And it did bother her, him being like, that: in a hurry; always looking a short-cut; celebrating his successes. It made her nervous and otherwise. And when she thought about, which she still did, she rationalized it this way: he was a squeezer. When she went looking for another him, and she did, she made sure she found one who, too, was a mergerightaway driver. It just made things easier. His name was Walt, her first husband. Hers was Imelda. She was Catholic and read the Bible, every day. She had a dog named Stuka.