Ship Shape

We met by car accident. Would-be lovers in a violent embrace. I was amused, and sat at the wheel as she scrambled out her passenger-side door. She was furious, but I found our opposition in mood magnetic.

Our true enmity had yet to be realized back then.

I had run the stop sign to catch a marked man, and had nearly overtaken him when her SUV erased the front third of my Honda. The opportunity had passed; a new, altogether different, one had arrived. It was she.

I found the tension in her curvilinear stance and savage and seductive. She stood outside my driver's side window for a time, berating me for my carelessness. I watched the acrid smoke snake upwards from the crumpled hood and was glad I hadn't used any of the other cars.

Then the cop came, and she ratted me out. I almost asked her out. Later, the officer hardly heard me, choosing instead to banter with her. I got a ticket, and my car had to be towed. I didn't care.

After all, I had her name. And number.