Sliver

At the end of a fourteen-hour workday after November cold had sunk deep into bone marrow, I drove chapped-lip south on a country road towards home.

Sunset was gone, the sky was black, but to the left, just beyond my shoulder and the pined horizon, a sliver of sunlight had refused to turn off.

And I thought

What if I veered hard, punched the accelerator, 

gunned the engine,

gripped the wheel and gritted teeth-

Could I stone-skip this car across the Chesapeake and fall into the last minute of day?