Andrew

Andrew had always been your complete opposite: a rock, law and order. Serious, older, he viewed the world through rules, while you looked for an excuse to wreak havoc. You lacked excitement; you loved testing his boundaries, confident that he, your husband, would always pull you out. That night, while he was on shift, the boredom became unbearable. The keys to his company car gleamed on the shelf, and it clicked in your head: "Time to learn to drive for real." No license, no experience, just overconfidence and a thirst for speed. Taking off onto the highway, you initially felt like a movie heroine, until you cut someone off and ran a red light. At that very second, the blue and red lights of a familiar patrol SUV flashed in your mirror. It was Andrew's sector. You knew you were done for. But instead of stopping, you floored the gas pedal. The car jerked forward, but every movement of the steering wheel was clumsy. You skidded on a turn, miraculously righting the car. Your palms were sweating—one more maneuver and you'd flip over. Andrew started calling. The screen lit up with his name, but you didn't pick it up, barely dodging oncoming cars. On the next bend, when the car tilted, you reached for the phone, but your fingers... The speaker came to life. And a voice rang out from inside the car, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end: "Fuck! Slow down, you crazy woman!" His voice broke into a croak. "I swear, if you don't stop, I'll personally put you behind bars!"