A Pothole’s Moonlit Departure from Life
A midnight sky casted visions of twinkling lights across a slighted range of sight, as a late-night drive through the valley suited his need to escape the boredom of a Saturday left alone. Joffre needed fresh air from a stuffy night heated with an index on the rise. A bottle of Bourbon sat firmly between his pressing thighs.
Lights traced the landmarks with speeding imagery caught in his peripheral. The winds blew his brow sternly with excitement forcing a broad grin in light of a foul mood. The radio played tunes dated back to his teenage passage into an adulthood rooted in responsibilities. Fleeing the night’s chilled air with a gleeful cheer now led less attention while driving most recklessly. Cornering curves way too fast to avoid the inevitable and a last bend in the road proved capable of his departure.
The car raced atop a hill and a casted moonlit road presented a single pothole darkened in the dim light. Joffre swerved a hard right toward the shoulder of the road. Gravel grabbed ahold of his tires spinning in an attempt to maintain pavement, but he plummeted over the cliff’s edge—lost in a frightful flight.
Joffre was an admired man reported dead on arrival, as he suffered from an addiction to bear. His obituary spoke to a good man’s history with family and friends. If he had only made it through that last bend in the road, a far greater amount of time favored this life cherished by so many people who cared. A funeral reception celebrated heartily Joffre’s once welcome abode, and a storied life of battling depression started a foundation in his honor.
~ R. Everett Maynard