In the moment that she takes the corner, kids crying out from the backseat. In the moment that she takes the corner, catching sight of him in an unrecognized car. In the moment that she takes the corner as he speeds directly ahead, unaware of her gaze. In the moment that the kids cry out from their places in the back, he speeds by unconcerned by these facts of the moment. In the moment that the gaze takes the corner. In the moment that the gaze speeds straight ahead, oblivious. In the moment that the sound of the children carries her forward a decade. In the moment that the moments fail. In the moment where momentum takes them both, finally, onwards.
C.C. Russell lives in Wyoming with his wife and daughter. His writing has recently appeared in such places as Tahoma Literary Review, Word Riot, Rattle, The Meadow, and The Colorado Review. His short fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net. He has held jobs in a wide range of vocations – everything from graveyard shift convenience store clerk to retail management with stops along the way as dive bar dj and swimming pool maintenance. He has also lived in New York and Ohio. He can be found on Twitter @c_c_russell