Her plans to drive back home were thwarted. The car she followed went west. And it did not stop.

Imogen Howe

snarled into the setting sun asking herself, "is this fucker driving all the way to the ocean?"

She ran out of cigarettes and had to pee but couldn't. The car ahead of her kept driving. She wiggled and wiggled trying to hold it in. Surely he'd have to take piss himself wouldn't he, she thought. But that was an ordeal as well. If the car went off an exit how would she be able to follow without arousing suspiscion? They were in the middle of nowhere. She'd stick out like a sore thumb.

Eventually she had to pee so bad that she just went. Her pants and the car seat were drenched. It was fresh urine so it didn't smell bad yet. She cursed and slammed the steering wheel. If she was a dude she could've peed in a bottle.

Wen the sun set and it was dark they were still driving. No signs of stopping anytime soon. It was getting darker earlier these days.