The Motor Carriage

A banged up motor carriage lies half-submerged in the icy water, slowly sinking into the Insulindian ocean. Only the cabin top, rear wheels and the engine remain visible. You sit on a swing in a nearby playground, watching, waiting for the tide to recede. Then you'll be able to see what's inside.

Rather than the car, your attention is focused on the man in the swing next to you; a large police officer wearing a disco-ass blazer and a horrific tie. He stares out at the motor carriage, seemingly curious to find out who the daredevil driver could have been.

It's been two hours.

He looks to you. "Can you make out the marque now?"

"Detective, I've been able to make out the marque ever since we arrived. I find it odd that you haven't. It's a Coupris, Model 40." Your eyes turn to him. "It's a simple and rugged machine, favoured by working men, government offices... firefighters, animal control people. You know, those kinds of people."

You wonder if he gets your meaning.

"Is that a number on the side?" he finally asks, squinting his eyes at the car.

"Yes. 41. What do you think it stands for?" You know what it stands for. You want him to say it.

The colour begins to rapidly drain from his face.

"Oh god no..."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"No, no..."

"Yes, your car is in the sea. Face it so we can start dealing with this."

"No, I mean seriously, it's just a coincidence..."

You just shake your head.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S MINE, I DROVE MY CAR INTO THE SEA????!?!?!?!!!??!!!!"

Memshare: The Motor Carriage

The Motor Carriage