It was dark in the glove-box, but the rev of the engine and the harsh vibrations meant we were burning, inescapably fast down the road. My door opened, but no light flowed in – only the smell of whisky and his dirtied hand. As he fished for me I thought, “Maybe there was a woman waiting for him at the end of the drive who didn’t care rotten breath.” The dome light clicked on and I saw his ugly mug looking for me – I had all of his attention. He found me, and for a moment was delighted; then the car, the drunk, and the candy collided with an oncoming semi.