Gregory Malone drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the persistent rain drummed against his windshield. The neon of the diner beyond the crossroads tempted him with grease and cholesterol, but he couldn’t succumb. He had to wait.
More rain fell. Gregory began to doze. Insubstantial dreams of Elona danced before his eyes until the world went bang and instantly became a much shorter place.
The car’s collapsed roof pinned Gregory against the steering wheel. With difficulty, he turned his head. Hanging beyond the shattered side window was an arm, blood and rainwater dripping from the fingertips.
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