Tag Archives: flipping the bird

Flipping Birds

Headlights in the rain

I can still picture the way the girl looked at me, blurred as her face was by the raindrops on my passenger-side window; the cartoonish silhouette of her voluminous blonde curls; the scowl on her face; the totally square way that she flipped me off with index, ring and pinky finger joined with the thumb behind a fully extended middle digit; the way she mouthed the words “fuck you” with delicate precision before speeding off.

I lost sleep over it that night.

I would have let her over had I seen her coming.

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