What Did You Do? Well, I 'm? Essay
“No, not really. I’m just fucking with you,” He jocularly mentions. “Seriously speaking, you’re a very fluctuating person. I worry about you sometimes.”
I feel my cheeks burn, conjointly giving him a weak smile, “I’m used to people saying that to me. There’s this one time I purposely spilled a blistering hot coffee on my ex boyfriend three years ago, and another one from last year.”
“What did you do to him?” Nicholas questions.
“You don’t want to know.” I snicker. “But intrinsically, he got hospitalized for about 3 whole months because of me! Could you believe that?”
“Unfortunately, yes!” He mimics my accent, abruptly heaving his hands from the steering wheel. “I’ve heard you also electrified a man with a Taser gun – a fucking Taser gun, Madison.”
“It was for safety purposes, Mr. Wagner.”
At that instant, a faint, yet nearing sound of a siren coming behind Nick’s convertible became perceptible. Flashes of red and blue glint reflected on the side mirrors incited him to reach a standstill beside the frontage road.
Great, more trouble.
“I told you to slow down earlier, now we’re screwed,” I seethe. “Nicholas – hey Nick! What are we going to do now?”
In this situation, people (similar to me) usually flip out, but Nicholas stayed in his seat, still fully composed with no evidence of stiffness. He casually procures his drivers license from his pocket and signals the state trooper to spring in.
A familiar lanky man…