I-75 conclusion

As the rain continued and the coffee cooled, approaching a semi truck from behind with its blinding spray made the moment intensify to forget the dread at arrival. Rain, fatigue, trucks, the hated trio of travelers.

Dad, the only vestige of coherence, just died. Mom, bedridden, drugged into incoherence, nerdo brother Chuckie scheming to steal from the estate, and eternal “little princes” Maddie wining and whining about everything awaits my arrival.

A feeling of Why me fatalism surges through my very soul. I simply can’t go through with this. The fires of Hell can’t be worse than this cauldron of family phlegm simmering to destroy us all.

“What” ? Who? Oh good morning I made you your favorite breakfast. Then I thought we might take a little ride in the rain? Did you sleep well dear?