This guy students call Fingers demands McDonald’s so we hit the drive-thru he doesn’t ask if I want anything splatters McChicken mayo on hairless legs slurps soda through fish lips long-nailed sandal-foot above the e-brake like a looming act of God expels noxious Bud Heavy funk can’t roll down the windows because this driving school-owned sedan is a shitbox we bang down the hometown expressway past rust-junk ghost factories dust kingdoms bad memories good memories bone-black fire pits too many no-sleep nights people you want to love forever forget hellos kisses breakups goodbyes.

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This other guy never says his name doesn't know what happened to Fingers says I gotta visit my cousin I'll only be like five minutes so we zoom to a lonely cul-de-sac south Montford by stale brown pond goes inside for forty-five minutes driver's manual only thing to read still encased in American plastic doesn't actually teach you how to drive so fucking useless guy stumbles back to the sedan face sweat-scarlet blood-dagger eyes not like he's high but like he's finished crying out of breath maybe he's at the edge of a heart attack flooded fingers palms he wipes streaks on tight khaki shorts says Hey man I’m hungry as hell let’s grab some food, take you back home.

Michael McSweeney is a writer and editor based in Brooklyn, where he lives with his partner and cat. His tweets stuff at @mpmcsweeney.