A cell phone vibrated on his night stand. James, a heavy sleeper, didn’t hear it until the long buzz of Celeste’s voicemail message thumped it onto the floor and the phone bounced under his bed. Face down on the pillow, he woke up with a jerk. Bright light streamed between the seams of his bedroom curtains. He pinched the corners of his eyes with his fingertips and blinked the blur out, wondering what time it was.
His arm crashed onto the nightstand. The lamp wobbled while he groped left and right for the electronic device, then clung to the side of the mattress while he searched the carpet underneath. A new notification was still on screen: one missed call from Celeste. He cued up the voicemail and listened, an increasingly wide-eyed, bad kind of wakefulness coming on now. “Shhhhhit.”
He sent a quick text -- ‘on my way’ -- and rolled out the bed.
James threw on a t-shirt, jeans, and laced on his boots. He stuffed a toothbrush in his mouth as the door to his trailer snapped shut behind him. Fifteen minutes later, his pick-up truck rattled down a deserted stretch of road where Celeste had directed him. He leaned on the wheel and watched as the wrecked car, and then Celeste, came into better view. When he got there, James swung a U-turn, sending the contents of his dashboard flying as pulled up beside the utility pole. He hopped out of the driver’s side door.