my mother's hands tighten on the steering wheel. the light is red and she asks me if i think about running it sometimes, into traffic. i tell mom i think about drowning into the green. we drive forward . . . we drive forward into the green. i tell mom i think about drowning, sometimes, into traffic. i think about running it. she asks me if the light is red and, on the steering wheel, my mother's hands tighten
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