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You don't want to be in that man's car. Always a maniac. He's driving us to the airport. You really don't want to be in his car. Lying on your back without seatbelts, looking at the ceiling light, thinking, if he rolls us over, that light will crush you. No! You don't want these thoughts.

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© 2002-2012 Mark Phillips. All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.