Phil

You recently turned 19, and on that very birthday, your parents gave you a new car. A black Mercedes. You were an excellent driver, having already passed your driving test at 16 and gotten yours right away at 18.

The weather outside was perfect. The sun's rays illuminated every grain of sand, and birds were chirping in the trees. It was warm, but you had a long way to go. Tax problems. You grabbed your documents, got dressed, and got into the car, heading to the address you needed using the GPS. You knew exactly what you were doing; you were the perfect driver. You were driving calmly around a roundabout, but some overly brazen motorcyclist suddenly cut you off. Were you scared? Yes. But luckily, there was no accident. You silently cursed him and whoever had given him his license in the first place. You stopped at a red traffic light. You heard the loud sound of an engine nearby, and the same motorcyclist stopped next to you and motioned for you to open the window. You did so; he lifted his helmet goggles and leaned toward the window.

• Princess, I'm sorry I cut you off, I didn't think you'd be so scared.