road ahead, Annie shifts into a higher gear and the car slides into
the tunnel. All sounds of rain disappear, and all that is left is
the hum of the engine, the muffled click as she switches to fifth
gear. He hefts the notepad paper and mutilated VCDs in his hands,
the remains of his life. He rolls down his window, greeted by the
acerbic roar of the tunnel around them, and chucks everything out.
It flutters to the road behind them, billowing like burning ashes.
Annie gives him a questioning look, her face lit up again and again
as the lights swim by. His only response to her is a grin, and she
matches it with a free and easy toss of her cigarette out the window
on her side. Up ahead he can see the hind end of the tunnel, the rain
coming down in a curtain and blackness on the other side, a faint
glimmer which may be the headlights of a vehicle coming
around the bend, or a reflection of their own headlights.
Ho Lin is co-editor of Caveat Lector. His current projects
include two film scripts, a music album, a novel, and anything else
that can take his mind off the economic crisis.