Changing Lanes

Sif leaned on the rental car’s horn as we came to an abrupt stop behind an old pick-up truck. “Goddammit!” she barked, giving the horn an extra few beeps. “It frickin’ rains and the drivers here don’t know what the hell to do.”

She darted into the next lane and gave the driver of the pick-up a dirty look. He just shook his head and mouthed something that I couldn’t make out. I gave an apologetic wave outside of Sif’s line of sight.

She couldn’t get away from the islands fast enough. I hadn’t yet told her I was staying.