The Final Click

The dark car, the friend waiting.

I pulled the strap across, a common

thing. No talking yet. Just the grating

pull, then the hard, sharp song.

A clack.

Too loud, somehow, in that still dark.

It settled. Held fast. A mark

of what was to come, a quick track

from silence to engine, to the grind

of street. For a moment, just the click.

A small, cold comfort to find.

Then the ignition, the gas, the quick.