Slice of Life #2

We left the house a 7:36, just six minutes after our goal, which is pretty impressive considering my dad was the one to drive us. The faded ink on my left hand depicted a donut in purple and black to remind me. It seemed necessary at the time, but I guess the act of drawing it on implanted it in my brain. The donut shop, a small independent one was only blocks from my house but as soon as we saw the traffic half a block away, we knew it would take more effort. It was a perfect storm of stress and chaos, with my siblings screaming, the dog pacing in the backseat and my dad leaning on the horn. He complained about people who were too old to be driving, people texting and people half-asleep at the wheel. Perhaps more people than he realized were innocent, good drivers in his position, just less assertive in their tiny cars. I just sat silently, knowing that we would make it because he wanted to beat the 'bad drivers'. He had a goal, a clear objective and he was going to win. Win the donut game.