the race

a sub compact pulls away from the curb, angling into the empty street. it saunters as well as any nearly double decade toyota can and eases over the small hill between itself and the first stoplight on this stretch of asphalt. the driver is somewhat distracted as exhibited by the cars slight sway down the avenue. suddenly it jerks for real. the driver's incredulous gaze is directed out of the passengers side window captivated by their new running mate. the baby throws it's hands into the air, the adrenaline of all that wind in it's face revealed by the fleshy gums bared in toothless smile. it's traveling at speed with the car. the driver remembers time and reacts, hitting the brakes just as the front wheels of the carriage hit the slope of a driveway leading to the street. it's stopped by an outstretched hand and a parent's face, wide with shock, comes into the window's frame. the baby is equally taken aback and it's arms drop like lead as it looks around quizzically. the bent over parent straightens to wave at the driver and the driver is relieved. removing their hand from their heart they wave back and hear the fears begin to quiet themselves and their left hand releasing it's death grip on the steering wheel. oh god, they sigh and think, oh good, i thought i might have to spend the afternoon figuring out who that baby belonged to. the end.