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I’m a car running on reserve. It’s dark. It’s raining. And there’s no fuel station for miles. When I do finally come up to a fuel station, only the petrol pumps are working - I need diesel… I’m on the verge of consciously contaminating myself because there’s not enough left in me to take me to the next stop. That’s the one where the diesel pumps are always working. At that fuel station, diesel is all that they’ve got.

I can make out the neon lighting of the other station in the distance. It’s not even as far as the horizon. But I have no way of getting there. No one to give me a little extra push. Nothing that I can tie myself to and be pulled along. Not even a vessel to carry back the fuel in. Come to think of it, how would I even carry back the fuel? I’m a car!

I switch off my headlights - I can’t see a thing! I turn off my wipers - now I really can’t see a thing! I shift into neutral each time there’s a down-hill - I’m hardly even rolling! (I start wondering whether today a manual gearbox or an automatic gearbox would have helped - I need to occupy my mind!)

I need to get to the damn fuel station!

Dammit! I’m empty! I’m pulled up on the shoulder. And I’m 100 yards short of reaching the diesel pump…

15 November 2012
22:10  Nairobi
43 notes
Posted by jasremindmetobreathe
#prose
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  4. This was featured in #Prose
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    Editor’s Note: Really like this.
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