It didn’t take long for the tracks that led from the road to the ravine to be covered up. It’s hard to believe that nobody drove by in that small window of time, that the road was empty for fifteen or twenty minutes. But sometimes when you’re driving you see curious things and you imagine that whatever has happened, it has been taken care of. You see incredible black marks on the highway that veer left and then right and then left again, implying that a car has sailed off of a bridge and exploded, just impossible angles for speeding vehicles, and you somehow convince yourself that nothing extraordinary has happened at all. Or, if something extraordinary truly has happened, you believe that the authorities were there to help, they came, and that whoever was driving is now home safe, playing Scrabble in front of a fire.
Patrick Somerville, “So Long, Anyway,” Trouble.