One Sentence: December 12, 2011

In the cafe's parking lot, a man honks wildly and backs out, nearly clipping my car, then slams to a stop, blocking the exit: I see him eye me in his rear view mirror, turn to engage my gaze, then watch as he snaps his head and leaps from his car to inspect his bumper, my car, me, while I ignore him, his diminutive stature, his overt aggressiveness, waiting for this dimunition of would-be destruction, to get back in his car and veer into oncoming traffic.