Driving at the normal speed.
He travelled the stretch of new road.
His little car a dot of red splitting through parched land,
Tall, glass buildings
He saw the group of three.
They were drunk.
In control of cans but not themselves.
They gaggled too close to the fast lane.
You'd think he'd be able to see.
But he stepped out anyway drunkenly losing his last second
to eye contact with the driving boy.
Bam.
Glass sharded and shattered.
Digging into the driver's hand.
The hit man rolled and bumped over the bonnet like a rag doll spilling onto steaming asphalt.

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